


Ten Too Many

by flibbins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harems, Multi, Multiple Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbins/pseuds/flibbins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some women can't handle one husband. Hermione is getting ten. Thank you very much, Voldemort. </p><p>Voldemort was defeated, but he left a parting gift. The Purgatio was designed to eliminate the unworthy, but ended up taking most of the population and almost all of the witches. Desperate to salvage their world, the Ministry takes drastic steps. Hermione will find if her heart has enough room to love ten husbands.</p><p>Marriage Law meets Harem!Hermione. Post-DH. Hermione x Harry, Lucius, Draco, Kingsley, Gregory G., Rodolphus, Cormac, Neville, Arthur and Severus Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A reader at fanfiction.net suggested I post this story in its original form on this site as it is easier to access than Granger Enchanted. The edited WIP is still available on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> Story Warnings: This story will contain mature content with regard to sexual situations and language.

 

_That awkward moment when you find out you're marrying your boyfriend's father._

**CHAPTER ONE**

Hermione sat in the basement kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, staring at nothing. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold, but she probably shouldn't drink it anyway. Her nerves were already on edge.

Though it was still early, Harry stumbled into the kitchen, rousing Hermione from her thousand-yard stare. "Morning, Mione," he mumbled as he shuffled to the coffee pot. Neither of them were much use before they'd caffeinated in the morning.

Harry was in a pair of pajama bottoms and sporting a bad case of bedhead. By now, Hermione hardly noticed that he was half naked, though most mornings she could appreciate that he had a nicely muscled chest. Nor did she feel awkward in her tiny tank top and sleep shorts, even though she wasn't wearing a bra. Months of living in close quarters with the boys had made them all quite comfortable with each other.

Even now that the war was over, and Voldemort finally defeated, the three of them were staying together in Harry's house. Well, Ron had moved back home a few weeks ago and she would probably be leaving after today. Though she wasn't certain where she'd be living tomorrow.

"Today's the big day, isn't it?" Harry settled into the seat across from her, sipping his hot drink.

Nodding, she took a sip of her own and immediately wished she hadn't. It was ice cold.

Of course she'd been sitting there for over an hour, long before she normally rose.

Today was the big day.

The Ministry was sending the owls out today that would seal her fate. The wait was agonizing.

It had been over a month since all of the surviving witches and wizards submitted a blood sample to the Ministry for matching. Two months ago the hotly contested law, which would see her married and pregnant long before she was ready, had been passed through the new Wizengamot. Three months ago the asinine idea had been introduced in the first place. Four months ago, the news that the British wizarding population was severely endangered and faced extinction without drastic action had leaked in the Daily Prophet. Six months ago, a cure for Voldemort's parting gift had finally been created, but it wasn't before thousands had died of the mysterious illness. And it was almost a year ago that Harry had stood over Tom Riddle's dead body, shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

The final battle had been bloody as had the months leading up to it. That alone would have severely impacted the population.

But that isn't where it stopped. Voldemort's last act, before Harry killed him in a bloody final encounter, was to unleash a plague upon the wizarding world. When it was finally countered, the population had been decimated. Hit the hardest were children who had not yet reached majority. Of the five-hundred students that attended Hogwarts the prior year, only twenty were alive to return. Or rather they would have returned if Hogwarts were in any condition to house them.

In addition to the children, the illness took a large number of adults, almost all witches. After all was said and done, between the war and the plague, the population was reduced to a small fraction of its previous size, and wizards now outnumbered witches by more than ten to one.

That was the reason the Ministry enacted the new legislation, waiting just long enough for the world to mourn their losses, though many would never be the same.

The law was necessary. Hermione knew that, but that didn't mean she liked it. It didn't mean she wanted to give up her aspirations to become a bride and a mother before she was twenty.

Harry liked to say that the law was her idea, but only if he wanted her to start ranting about the misogynistic, backwards society they lived in. And if he wasn't careful, she'd start to threaten to find a way for wizards to carry the unborn children and see how much they liked it.

That always shut him right up, though Hermione had spent several long, fruitless nights in the Black library, searching for dark spells to cause male pregnancy.

In a way, Harry was right though. The new law had been inspired by an off-hand comment she made during an informal gathering of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. She'd said there was a documented trend in the Muggle world that birth rates increased dramatically directly following wartime. Kingsley Shacklebolt had heard that assertion and started thinking. As the newly appointed Minister for Magic, a job he didn't particularly want, he was now saddled with the myriad problems that faced his world.

The most pressing was the fact that even if every witch produced two children, the genetic pool would be so shallow that the population would be on the brink of extinction within fifty years.

Shacklebolt did not want to be known as the Minister who allowed the British wizarding world to crumble into dust.

The brightest minds left, including Hermione, had run the arithmantic calculations, looking for a solution. But just because she'd been part of the solution didn't mean she liked it. It might have been their best hope, but that didn't mean it was a popular idea.

In fact, she had been the most vocal opposition to the law that essentially turned the remaining able-bodied witches into baby factories – a term that never failed to confuse the wizards of the Wizengamot. But no matter how many times the equations were run, the answer was the same.

So now Hermione was waiting to find her fate, to find out her matches. Harry was too, of course, but even he admitted the witches had the raw end of this deal.

The equations had been clear. Every witch would need to be bound to no fewer than five wizards and bear each of those wizards no fewer than two children in order to have any hope for a future. Of course since that was the bare necessity and it was likely that some witches would have difficulty successfully bearing ten children, even with potions to increase fertility and to accelerate gestation, the law would require a witch to take ten husbands instead.

Ten husbands. Twenty children. She could hardly fathom it.

The letter with the names of her ten wizards was probably already on its way.

She fervently hoped none of them was really old. It was a frivolous concern in the grand scheme of things, but it was a concern nonetheless.

All of the living witches of reproductive age, from 15 to 70, had to marry. Wizards over the age of 15 were all eligible, though it was unlikely that any wizard over 125 would be matched, just because of the viability of his little swimmers.

There wasn't enough lust potion on the planet to make Hermione interested in a centenarian. She shuddered at the thought. She'd almost rather end up with one of the Azkaban prisoners than someone as old as Dumbledore.

Involving convicted criminals was another controversial part of the law, but the plan needed a percentage of the new children to be fathered by wizards currently residing in the world's most secure prison, Azkaban. Some of the oldest bloodlines were carried in the Death Eaters who had been captured at the end of the war.

It took a great deal of work to convince the members of the governing body that this was feasible. It took even more work to convince the public. After much debate, both public and private, a couple dozen prisoners who were still healthy enough to reproduce were offered an opportunity for a more lenient sentence.

Actually, it was full parole, but with a few important concessions. The technology already existed to bind a wizard's magic, but it was highly restricted and only worked if the magic was given up voluntarily. The selected prisoners had to agree to have their magic permanently bound, but it would give them a chance to live.

If Dolohov weren't already dead, he probably would have ended up on her list. That was just her luck.

"I wonder how the Weasleys are doing," Harry said, interrupting their silent vigil.

If Hermione wasn't drowning in her own misery, she would have acknowledged that the situation was worse for the Weasleys.

The family was still struggling with losing Fred in the battle, and then Ginny to the sickness only a few weeks later. Percy had fallen ill, as had Fleur. Somehow Percy managed to hang on until the counter-curse was worked out, but Bill's bride and unborn child hadn't. After all of that, now their family was going to be ripped apart. Molly and Arthur had gathered all their remaining children close in the past few weeks to savor their last days together. Once the owls went out, the Weasley marriage would be dissolved.

In a contentious move, the new law called for all current unions to be disbanded. Even the Weasleys, who had been happily married for three decades, and borne seven children, were being forced apart. The excuse was that many bindings included fidelity clauses that could not be overcome unless the marriage was dissolved, but there was also concern that established couples would not be able to adapt to the new arrangements and the new husbands wouldn't be given equal consideration. This aspect of the law, controversial and passionately contested, was eventually passed by the interim Wizengamot, the majority of whom were single or in a few cases not all that opposed to the chance of being partnered with a new, younger witch.

It seemed like the worst sort of crime for a couple to have successfully survived both the war and then a deadly plague, only to be separated from their beloved for "the greater good."

This morning, though, Hermione could only worry about how these things might affect her. How many of her new husbands would be pining for their former spouses? How many were like Harry and had only recently lost the one they loved?

Though it had been ten months since Ginny had gone, she knew Harry still missed her. When it first happened he was already numb from the losses they'd endured during the battle, but now he seemed to be moving forward the best he could. He hadn't talked about his feelings, and she hadn't seen him cry, but every day he seemed a little brighter.

There were still moments when the horror of the recent past caught up with all of them, but at least Harry didn't seem to be dwelling.

Still, it was all happening so fast and yet the minutes seemed to be dragging this morning as they sat in the silent kitchen, both caught up in their thoughts.

A tapping at the little window, high above the sink, meant the wait was over.

She froze, staring out at the pair of nondescript Ministry owls. Perhaps she could refuse to take the owl. If she never opened it, she'd never have to marry the list of strange men inside.

But it was too late to run.

She might have gotten away before she submitted her blood sample. For a moment she'd considered going back to the Muggle world and forsaking her heritage to avoid the fate that was watching her impatiently from the kitchen window. But the Ministry had been adamant that all able bodied citizens were required to participate and failure to do so would make her an enemy of the state. In that case she'd be hunted down and forced to participate. Meaning that she'd spend the next several years incarcerated in a special ward in St. Mungo's and forced to bear her quota of babies anyway. After that, she'd have to spend some time in Azkaban.

But the idea of slipping away to find her parents in Australia was so tempting, especially now that time was up. Of course her parents didn't even know who she was and with the restrictions on international travel imposed to prevent illegal defection, Hermione wouldn't have the opportunity to restore their memories any time soon, maybe not ever. But if she was going to end up with 20 kids, maybe it would better to leave them be. It certainly wasn't the life they envisioned for her.

It wasn't the life she envisioned for herself. She'd planned to work for the Ministry after graduation, perhaps advocating for those beings that were marginalized in the wizarding world. But now there would be no graduation. Hogwarts was closed for the foreseeable future and she'd been absent from her final year to support Harry's quest for the horcruxes. And there would be no career either, not for years at least.

At one time, Hermione had considered marriage and children, but the only person she'd ever seen that way was Ron. Once the heat of battle faded, so had their ardor. The days and weeks after were a time of mourning and then growing terror as more and more people fell ill. Now she didn't even know if she was going to match with Ron and she wasn't certain if she really wanted to.

There was only one way to find out who she was stuck with, though. Harry finally opened the window and the owls dropped off their letters, an envelope for each of them.

Hermione's was much thicker than Harry's, but that made some sense since she had ten times the number of spouses as he did.

For the longest time they didn't move. When Harry went to open his, she reached across the table and stopped him.

Her hand trembled on top of his. "Promise me, Harry, that we'll stay close. No matter who you end up with. Please don't abandon me."

Harry turned his hand over and squeezed hers in a comforting gesture. "Never. Even if I get stuck with some pureblood princess, she won't be able to keep me away. Even if your husbands lock you in a tower, I'll find you. Always."

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek and she quickly dashed it with her free hand. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just scared."

"Me too, Mione." He was serious for a moment, but then he grinned. "I mean, I could be stuck with Pansy Parkinson, or…dear Merlin…Dolores Umbridge." The grin had turned into a grimace.

"Don't even joke about that, Harry."

"The worst would be Mrs. Weasley. She's practically my mum."

"I hadn't even considered that." She pulled her hand back and turned over the envelope in front of her. The matching would prevent anyone closer than third cousins from marrying, which meant most of the purebloods would have to be matched to half-bloods and Muggleborns. But there was no way for it to account for the kind of relationship Harry shared with the Weasley matriarch.

"Guess there's one way to find out." Harry turned over his envelope and broke the wax seal.

Encouraged to act, Hermione opened hers as well. While there were some older members of the Order than she considered mentors, unlike Harry, none of them replaced her own father in her mind.

Still, it would be rather awkward…

Hermione unfolded the thick sheaf of papers, scanning over the cover sheet. It was a form letter with instructions and deadlines associated with binding the marriage, requirements for setting up a household, how to apply for Ministry sponsored housing, and where to acquire potions some of which were mandatory, others recommended. But the page didn't give her the names.

Impatiently, she shuffled the pages and discovered a sheet with a biography of her first match.

Arthur Weasley.


	2. Chapter 2

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

 

  ** _That not-so awkward moment when you snog your best friend._**

**Chapter 2**

Hermione was too shocked to look at her other matches.

This couldn’t be right. Mr. Weasley was old enough to be her father and had always been a bit of a surrogate father, no matter that she had only moments ago claimed otherwise. And certainly he saw her as nothing more than a sort of daughter.

She was going to have to… Sweet Nimue’s knickers…

It was no wonder the Ministry was recommending certain lust potions.

His bio sheet had Mr. Weasley’s most recent apparition license photo and a list of demographics including his address, current location, work history and a little blurb about him. It listed his birth date, February 6, 1950. That made him almost 30 years older than her.

He smiled mildly up from the photo. Despite his age, he was an attractive man. She could see where Bill got his dashing good looks, though time and stress had weathered Arthur a bit. But still, before this she’d never once looked at him as anything more than Ron’s dad.

And then there was the fact that she would be the one breaking up the Weasley’s marriage. Forgetting for a moment that this was the Ministry’s doing, and that Mrs. Weasley would also be remarrying, Hermione felt suffocated by guilt that she was taking the Weasley patriarch away.

Tears threatened, but she sniffed them back. Losing her head wouldn’t make this any better. She was a logical, rational witch. She could handle this.

After her brief mental pep talk, she flipped to the next profile. “No way.” She pushed away from the table, toppling her chair.

“What is it?” Harry asked, looking up from his own letter.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Hermione was shaking now and breathing too fast, all thoughts of logic gone. “Why the hell didn’t I leave when I had the chance? I can’t marry that man. What the hell am I going to do?”

She paced back and forth, fingers pulling at her hair as she considered options for avoiding her fate. The more ideas she discarded, the more desperate her ideas got. Fleeing was out; the Ministry could too easily track her movements. Murder was a possibility. Mental breakdown seemed likely. Finally she wondered, “Do you think it would hurt very much if I poison myself? Maybe I could overdose on Draught of Living Death. That seems like a peaceful way to go.”

“Hey.” Harry got up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. With his other hand, he smoothed her hair back. “Don’t even talk like that. You can’t leave me. What would I do without you?”

“Sorry, Harry. I don’t mean it, but the idea of letting that man touch me is…” Her shudder conveyed her disgust better than words possibly could.

“It’ll be okay. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.” He kissed her temple. His lips brushed against her skin as he continued, “Besides, you know how close he came to going back to prison. He’s still on probation. If he even pulls his wand on you, except in self-defense, his probation’s revoked and it’s Azkaban or magical binding for him.”

Hermione sniffed and nodded, letting Harry guide her back to her chair, settling himself into the one next to her. “So who else have you got?” he asked.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said miserably.

She heard Harry swallow before he responded, “That’s…er…interesting.”

“I feel so bad. I don’t want to steal him away from his family.”

“You aren’t stealing anyone. This wasn’t your choice.”

“Ron’s going to have kittens.”

“No—” Hermione cut off his denial with a look. Reluctantly, he conceded, “Okay, you’re probably right. But he’ll get over it. You don’t have a choice and neither does he.”

Hermione sniffed again and nodded as Harry tucked a curl back behind her ear. Finally he asked, “Any other exciting matches?”

“That’s as far as I got. I can’t look anymore.”

“Well it can hardly get worse.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, hitting him on the shoulder. “It can always get worse. Aberforth could be in there.”

Harry wrinkled his nose at the idea. They’d spent several hours discussing her fear of being stuck with someone ancient. “Okay, you’re right. It could get worse. But isn’t the worst thing just sitting here, imagining the worst? Why don’t you look at the rest and see what’s what.”

“I can’t. Will you do it for me, Harry?” It was unlike her to be so needy, but she thought it might be understandable under the circumstances.

He scooped up the papers she’d dropped and flipped through them. His frown deepened as he went. By the time he’d gone through them all, Hermione’s leg was bouncing up and down so hard with nerves that it looked ready to fly off.

It seemed like forever before he looked up, a half grimace on his face. “So do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Hermione was going to throw up. “Bad…. No, good. _Argh_.Just tell me.”

He adjusted his glasses. “Well, none of them have wrinkly, old man balls. Arthur’s the eldest at 49.”

She sighed in relief. That was her number one fear, being matched to some perverted old letch with death breath and saggy skin.

“None of them are much younger either. In fact everyone was in our year or above at Hogwarts.”

That was another relief. Only slightly more lecherous than old men were barely pubescent boys. She couldn’t imagine having to take one of the two remaining 15 year-olds as a husband, and now she knew she wouldn’t have to.

“Well that’s good. So enough stalling, who are they?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“Are they that bad?”

“N-no. Not all. Um, you like Neville right? He’s a good bloke.”

Hermione relaxed a little more and then she smiled, ever so slightly. “Sure, Neville’s great…”

“And, um, Kingsley’s the Minister for Magic, so that’ll make you, like, Mrs. Minister or whatever.”

“Kingsley? Shacklebolt? I don’t want to marry him. I want to tie him down and hex his dangly bits off.”

“Kinky.”

“Harry!” He smirked as Hermione smacked him on the arm again. But she did crack a smile. “Who else?”

“Cormac McLaggen.” He winced as he said it, as if he was afraid she’d hit him again.

“That wanker? Bloody arrogant tosspot…”

Hermione was still grumbling about Cormac when Harry said, “Gregory Goyle.”

“No.”

“‘Fraid so.”

“But I don’t want to have stupid children.” This came out as a whine.

Harry put a comforting hand on her knee. “Your children couldn’t possibly end up stupid. Even with only half of your brain, they’ll be bloody brilliant.”

Hermione sniffed and gave him a watery smile.

He sighed before he gave her the next name. “Draco Malfoy.”

“The gods are punishing me.” She dropped her head to the kitchen table and banged it a few times. “This is payback for being a horrible daughter and for that time when I was six and I took a piece of candy from the grocer after my mum said she wouldn’t buy it for me. Or maybe someone at the Ministry fixed my results because I’ve been such a pain.”

Harry set his hand on the back of her head. “You are a very brave and selfless daughter. And as much as I love a good conspiracy theory, I doubt anyone would put the Minister on your list along with all of these Death Eaters. As for the candy…” She turned her head to the side to look at him. “I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you. You always seemed like such a good girl.” His smile told her he was teasing her and she couldn’t help but smile back. Thirteen years later and she still felt guilty about that dumb piece of candy.

“Besides, Draco might not be so bad,” Harry continued after a moment. “He was almost polite when we ran into him after his trial. We shook hands and the world didn’t come to a screeching halt.”

“You’d just helped him stay out of Azakaban, Harry. Even a git like Malfoy can manage to be gracious on special occasions. But, somehow I doubt he’s going to be thrilled about marrying someone like me.”

“He’s lucky to be marrying someone like you.” He leaned toward her with a sober mien. “After all, he could be marrying Dolores Umbridge.”

She rolled her eyes at his goofiness and then motioned impatiently to the stack of papers in his hands.

Harry sobered, took a deep breath and said, “Rodolphus Lestrange.”

“They’re letting him out? But you just managed to put him away!”

“I know.” His face was grim. Harry, Ron and Neville had been working with a team of Aurors for the past six months, tracking down the last of the Death Eaters and putting them in Azkaban. Lestrange had been one of the most elusive and he hadn’t come without a fight. A fight his brother, Rabastan, hadn’t survived.

“He’s a Squib, then?”

Harry nodded.

“But he’s still a murderer.”

He nodded again and Hermione sighed. “Please tell me that’s the worst of it.”

Harry shrugged and scrunched up his nose. It wasn’t particularly comforting.

“Who?”

“Snape?”

“Oh.” She considered that for a moment. “No, that’s not so bad.”

“Are you forgetting what a right prat he can be?”

“No. Of course not. But at least he was a good guy. God, I bet he’s just thrilled about this.” She laughed as she imagined Severus Snape finding out he was betrothed to the know-it-all Gryffindor.

“Kingsley better watch his back,” Harry answered with a smirk.

Hermione agreed with a smile and then counted back over the matches. “There’s one left. Who is it?”

Harry reached across the table to his own letter and handed it to her. When she glanced at it she was looking at a picture of herself.

“It’s me.”

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Harry watched her absorb the news silently for a few moments while he grew worried that she was disappointed by the match. But she was beaming when she looked up from the parchment in her hands. “You mean we get to stay together?”

“Always.”

With a whoop, Hermione threw herself at Harry, landing with little grace in his lap, wrapping her arms around him. Harry laughed and hugged her back, enjoying the feel of the warm witch.

It was nice to just hold someone again. But honestly, she wasn’t just anyone. He was happy to be holding Hermione.

He wasn’t certain when it happened. Maybe it was during those long nights when it was just the two of them camping out as they evaded Death Eaters and Snatchers. There had been a moment when he looked across the table and realized she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Somehow she’d grown up. Gone was the scrawny twelve-year-old with frizzy hair and an overbite. Now she had soft curves in all the right spots and she was really quite pretty.

Of course he hadn’t done anything at the time. He’d simply acknowledged that his friend had become a beautiful woman when he wasn’t paying attention and moved on. Even when Ron was being a complete prat, Harry was too loyal to consider making a move on Hermione.

And then there was Ginny. He loved Ginny then and he still loved her now, but if there was one thing he refused to do, it was to become another Severus Snape. He’d loved Ginny and if she’d lived, they might have had a future together, but she was gone and he would remember her, but he would move on.

Since the final battle, whatever spark that existed between Ron and Hermione failed to ignite despite opportunity. In the past few months, Harry had been having a hard time keeping his thoughts of her platonic. More and more, she was creeping into his dreams in ways that were more than friendly.

He could kiss Kingsley. Really. This stupid idiotic excuse for a law had delivered him exactly what he wanted.

Hermione sat back, still on his lap, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry I flew at you like that. I’m just happy.”

“Don’t worry, Mione. I don’t mind. I’m happy, too.”

“Really?” She caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “You weren’t hoping for someone else?”

“Well, I did have my heart set on Dolores Umbridge, but you’re a close second.”

“Harry!” She smacked his arm again in the same spot. He was getting a bruise. “I’m serious.”

“Funny, you don’t look like Sirius.”

She smacked him again.

“Ow. Stop beating me up, Mione. I’ll have to report you to the Ministry for spousal abuse.” He pulled a pathetic face, making her laugh. Then he tightened his arms around her and lowered his forehead to rest against hers. “Seriously, I’m really glad it’s you. Someone I already love.”

She smiled, her eyes glassy. “Love you, too,” she said lightly, the same way she’d been saying it for years, only now he wanted her to mean more. But there would be time for that.

Her expression became solemn again. “It doesn’t bother you that we’ll have to…you know?”

“I expect we’re going to enjoy ‘you know’ quite a lot.” He brushed a soft kiss over her lips, with just the barest hint of pressure.

Hermione melted against his chest when he pulled away, humming as her lips curled up in a smile. “I expect you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate the kudos and your comments are welcome!
> 
> Next up: A run-in with a redhead.


	3. Chapter 3

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**_Then you get sex advice from the ex-wife._ **

**CHAPTER THREE**

They sat curled together for a few minutes before Hermione’s dread returned. One perfect match. The rest ranged from acceptable to terrifying, and she only had a few days to get them all coordinated for a binding ceremony.

“Where do we start?” Hermione asked.

“Well, the law appoints the eldest spouse as the head of the house, which means Mr. Weasley. We should start there.”

“You mean to go to the Burrow?”

“We can’t avoid them forever.”

An hour later, after some dithering and procrastination, the pair apparated to the end of the dusty lane that led to the crooked house, a house that had always been a welcoming place, made that way largely by Molly Weasley’s warm, maternal manner. The house wouldn’t be the same without her cooking in the kitchen or barking orders to children and guests alike.

It was with heavy hearts that they walked, close enough that their arms brushed against each other. Hermione wanted to reach out and grab Harry’s hand, if only because she needed the reassurance, but she didn’t. She wasn’t certain what was going on between them. It was as if a line that kept them in the platonic-friends zone had suddenly been erased. Like magic. She was giddy and nervous and unsettled in a way she’d never been with him before. She felt fluttery.

Hermione shot him a shy smile as they walked up the porch steps, and he gave her a lopsided grin, shoved his messy hair back and knocked on the door.

It was answered a few moments later by an uncharacteristically subdued Molly Weasley who simply held her arms out and let them step into one of her amazing hugs. She smelled like cinnamon and laundry soap and sunshine.

After a few moments, Harry pulled away, but Hermione clung to the older woman, sobbing into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I would never want to take him from you. I wish I didn’t have to. I’m so, so sorry.”

Mrs. Weasley just held her, calming Hermione with soft shushing sounds like she probably had for all of her children over the years. When the wave of weeping subsided, the redhead pulled back, her own eyes damp, and gave Hermione an encouraging smile. “Enough with the apologies for things you can’t control.”

“I was so worried you were going to hate me.” A few more tears escaped, and Hermione had to take a few deep breaths to get them in check.

“I love you like one of my own, Hermione. And this isn’t going to change that. Besides, I trust you to take good care of Arthur now that I won’t be able to.” The older woman nodded and sniffed, brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes before they could fall.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now I imagine you’ve come to speak with Arthur. He’s in the kitchen with the boys. So let’s dry our tears. If we women don’t stay strong through this, the world will fall to pieces.”

Hermione took a moment to clean up her face, feeling a bit better. If anyone had a reason hate her, it was Mrs. Weasley. The fact she wasn’t even angry eased some of the heaviness in her heart.

Once they were composed, the women walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen.

They were greeted by a table of redheaded men with long faces.

“Where did Harry and Ron get off to?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she fell into her typical role in the kitchen, bustling about to fix Hermione a cup of tea.

“The boys stepped outside to discuss some things. Good morning, Hermione,” Mr. Weasley said, rising from the table to pull out a chair for her.

She thanked him quietly as she settled, feeling the weight of stares from eyes she couldn’t quite meet.

The silence was unnatural, especially in the normally raucous Weasley household.

Relief finally came from George, of course. “You’re not going to make us call you Mum, are you?”

This comment was greeted with laughter that managed to break the tense atmosphere of the room. George had recovered some of his irreverent humor despite losing his other half in the final battle. Since then, he also fell into dark funks on occasion where he wouldn’t speak with anyone.

Hermione blushed as she chuckled, but she managed to retort with a mock glare, “That’ll be Stepmum to the likes of you.”

It felt good to laugh with these people who had been a second family to her. Once the ice was broken, conversation flowed, Weasley-style, meaning that there were a minimum of three topics under discussion simultaneously, voices vying for attention by increasing volume and repetition. It took some getting used to for an outsider, but for Hermione it was a comfort.

Mr. Weasley used the cover of the boisterous chatter to quietly say, “I understand from Harry that I’m to be your head of household.”

She nodded. “I’m afraid it won’t be an easy task.” He raised a questioning brow. She continued, “Well for starters there are five Slytherins, four are marked Death Eaters, one was a junior Death Eater-in-waiting.”

His brow furrowed. “How did they manage that? I thought there were supposed to be safeguards in the process to ensure witches were matched to no more than one Azkaban inmate.”

“Only one of them was a prisoner. Lestrange.” Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “The others are both Malfoys and Professor Snape.”

That name seemed to penetrate the layers of conversation around them.

“You got stuck with the greasy git?” George asked, wincing as Mrs. Weasley rapped his knuckles with her teaspoon.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, annoyed at the insult to her intended. “I’ve been matched to Professor Snape and I’m quite honored by it. He’s a brave, intelligent man.” She turned back to Mr. Weasley, saying quietly, “Though I doubt he’ll be thrilled at the prospect. I imagine that may make your role more difficult.”

He reached out as if to pat her hand, but retracted it at the last moment. “I’m certain we’ll manage. So what other challenges do your husbands present?”

“Well there’s Neville Longbottom, who’s a nice guy and Cormac McLaggen, who’s an arrogant prat. But I’ve also got Kingsley and Harry.”

Mr. Weasley nodded, considering. “So this union will be high profile.”

“I imagine we’ll have to set an example,” Hermione added glumly. “And even then I’m certain the papers will find something scandalous to print. They always have before where I’m involved. Even if they have to make it up.”

This time Mr. Weasley did pat her hand, unable to deny the truth of her statement, but offering some encouragement. “We’ll all work to protect you, and whether good or evil, you do have some rather powerful husbands.”

It was at that moment that the backdoor opened. Ron took two steps into the kitchen, his lip cracked and bleeding, his knuckles scraped. He paused when he spotted Hermione sitting at the table with his father’s hand covering hers.

The way his eyes bugged out would have been comical if it hadn’t been followed by an angry diatribe.

“How dare you!” he screamed. “How dare you come in here and flaunt your relationship in front of us. In front of my mother. She’s been crying for days and you just swoop in here like you belong. You’re nothing more than homewrecking, mudblood whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath and the scraping of chairs as all of the Weasleys got to their feet, leaving Hermione to hunch forward at the table and bury her face in her folded arms. Seven voices argued, all but one defending Hermione and castigating Ron for his words.

Sometime during the melee, Harry must have snuck back into the room. Instead of entering the fray, he came to Hermione. It was a small thing, his hand on her back, rubbing in gentle circles, but it was a true balm. Around them, the noise escalated until Mrs. Weasley banged her wooden spoon on a hanging pot.

“Enough!” she shouted. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will shut your mouth right now.” She sounded like her howler come to life. “I have never been more embarrassed to call myself your mother. We did not raise you to think that way, or to speak like that. Hermione is your friend and she’s as much a victim of this as anyone.”

“She was on the team that came up with this bloody plan!”

Another argument broke out between the brothers, but it was quickly put down, this time by their patriarch.

“Silence!” Arthur Weasley immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room. This was not the mild mannered wizard Hermione had come to know. The wizard, who had only lost his cool once in Hermione’s presence during a confrontation with the elder Malfoy, was fuming. His wand was in his hand, magenta sparks shooting from the tip.

“I will tell all of you this only once. If you wish to blame anyone for this situation, then blame Voldemort and his supporters. Blame the old leadership that allowed him to rise to power, not once, but twice. Blame the people who judge based on blood status and not merit.” At this he glared at Ron. “But for all the blame you assign for creating this situation, you have to blame the Wizengamot for approving this law. I am one of those people on the Wizengamot and I am one who approved this, even these conditions that are difficult for our family to face.

“All of us are being called to make sacrifices for our society. I know we’ve already sacrificed too much and this is not fair. Your mother and I lost two of our children, you each lost two siblings, and Bill lost his lovely wife and a child he never even got to hold. Some of you, Charlie, will have to abandon the work you love, or perhaps you will not be able to pursue a career at all for a time.” He glanced at her then. “And now you’re being asked to forsake a future with the mate of your choice, at least for several years.

“But the facts are that with the number of witches remaining, the oldest wizarding community in the world would be decimated in three generations. There would be too few children and their lines would be too closely related. Children would be born Squibs or with other defects.

“This is the solution that we adopted. It wasn’t the only solution. Hermione herself attended the hearings and tried to forward other suggestions, but this was the one that the majority approved.” Many of the council members wouldn’t even entertain her idea to introduce a few Muggle bloodlines into the society. Nor were they interested in offering incentives to financially struggling magical communities outside of Great Britain in exchange for encouraging some of their subjects to immigrate. The objection was that we would lose the identity of their community, lose their traditions, and in that case they might as well all pack up and move somewhere else.

“We are all making sacrifices, Ronald. It’s time to grow up and accept them like the man your mother and I raised you to be. And you will never again speak that way about Hermione if you wish me to continue to acknowledge you as my son.”

Ron went pale with shock except for two red flags of embarrassment high on his cheeks. “I apologize, Dad. I wasn’t thinking straight.” The words were choked and automatic, but not especially heartfelt.

“I’m not the one who’s owed an apology.”

Attention shifted back to her, but she kept her eyes on the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” This apology sounded even more forced than his first. Hermione wasn’t the only one that noticed it.

“You shouldn’t have said it. You shouldn’t have even thought it.” It was Harry who spoke in her defense, his hand resting on her shoulder.

“Stay out of it, Harry. You two probably have been shagging each other for years behind my back. Behind Ginny’s back. Doesn’t it even bother you that Ginny’s gone? Hermione was supposed to be mine, Harry. Mine. But you always get everything.”

She’d had enough. Rising with her wand drawn, she said, “Harry and I have never been more than friends until now. I will admit I once thought you and I could be something more, but after your display today, I’m quite certain that it would never have worked out. I will accept your apology in the spirit in which it was issued—with reluctance.”

Hermione looked from Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley. “Perhaps it would be best if I leave—”

“No,” Mr. Weasley said with finality. “Ron, I believe you have a meeting with your intended soon. It would be best if you clean yourself up before you go. Your brothers can help you.”

It was an obvious dismissal and none of the boys disputed it. Once the room emptied of the younger Weasleys, Hermione slumped back in her chair.

“I apologize for Ronald’s behavior,” Mr. Weasley said as he resumed his seat. “I would say that he’s under a lot of emotional stress, but it’s no excuse. We’re all under stress and managing the best we can.”

“I’m quite familiar with his temper.” She smiled wryly, but it was tinged with sadness. “I expected his anger, but that doesn’t make it less painful. Still, you needn’t apologize for him, Mr. Weasley.”

“I think under the circumstances you should call me Arthur.”

“All right…Arthur,” she said, blushing lightly.

“I take it you boys fought,” Arthur said to Harry, who took a seat on the other side of Hermione. She could see where his cheek was red and beginning to swell. And his glasses were broken. Again.

“Sorry, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, he didn’t react well to the news that I was one of Hermione’s husbands. I’d hoped he’d gotten it all out of his system though.”

As the older couple dismissed his apology, Hermione took a moment to fix up Harry. She knew enough first aid to reduce the swelling and prevent further bruising, but he’d still have a red mark for a while. A quick _Occulus Reparo_ fixed his glasses right up and she was reminded of the first day she met Harry Potter.

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

He grinned at her knowingly. “Thanks, Mione.”

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Arthur and Harry moved into the sitting room to discuss how they should proceed to gather everyone for the binding and what to do next. Hermione decided she’d had enough binding talk for the moment and decided to stay in the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with lunch preparations.

When the meat-filled pasties were in the oven, the women sat down at the table.

After insisting that Hermione also call her by her given name, Molly said, “I want you to know that I’m here for you to talk to if you need it. Soon you’ll be a wife and a mother and I do have some experience in those areas. And wizards can be so clueless sometimes it’s nice to be able to talk to another witch.”

“I appreciate that, Molly. I’m certain I’ll need your help and advice. Perhaps we can try to meet for tea and a weekly chat. At least until we’re too pregnant to get about.”

“I would like that very much.” Molly smiled at her, sipped her tea and then took a deep breath as if preparing for something unpleasant. “Now I know this is a rather delicate topic, and a bit more awkward for the strange situation we’re in, but do you have any questions about sex?”

Hermione choked on her tea. After her coughing fit subsided, she stammered, “Well…er…I…um…I think I understand the basics, but I’ve never actually…. That is to say I’ve not…. I’m still a….”

“A virgin?”

Hermione sighed in relief at not having to say the word. She nodded. “I’ve only ever been kissed three times and one of them was Harry only just this morning.” She touched her lips, remembering. “It was sweet.”

“You’ve only been kissed three times? Even after spending all that time unchaperoned with two teenage boys?”

She huffed, a little irritated because it had been a common misconception during school that there was more than just friendship amongst the trio. Some of the rumors even paired Harry and Ron as a couple, making her the third wheel. “We were running for our lives and trying to save the world. I had other things on my mind.”

“I don’t mean to offend you, dear, but not many girls would have resisted the temptation, especially under such dire circumstances. I doubt I would have at your age. You know Bill was born only seven months after Arthur and I married and he was almost a month past his due date.”

It always surprised her when she found respectable adults had once been young and rash. Hermione just shook her head and shrugged. “For me, it wasn’t the right time. I thought maybe Ron and I would…after the battle…but it just didn’t work out. And now I’m going to have ten lovers and I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.”

“You poor dear, to think how much more trying this whole situation is for you. Your first experience is daunting enough even if you wait for the right time with the right man.”

“I’ll admit I’m completely terrified. While I understand the mechanics of what goes on between a man and a woman, I have no practical experience. And some of these men are downright scary. Besides that, I don’t know how to be a wife. I don’t know how to be a mum.”

“Hermione, you are a brilliant, caring girl. You’ll figure it out, and I’ll always be willing to help if you need it. But if one of those men does something you don’t like, you don’t hesitate to go to Arthur, or Harry if you’re more comfortable.”

They shared another hug and then Hermione decided it was time to change the subject. “So what are your matches like, Molly?”

She snorted and poured them each a little more tea.

“I don’t know what potions they’re on over at the Ministry, to think that I should be matched to a boy your age.”

“Oh goodness. Who?”

“Seamus Finnegan. The poor dear will probably need me to use Polyjuice to get the deed done.” Molly laughed and Hermione couldn’t help but join in. “I won’t know whether to kiss the boy or change his nappy and send him to his room.”

The thought of Seamus in a diaper was enough to push the pair over the edge.

After the two had a good, much needed laugh, Molly shared that the rest of her matches weren’t so very bad. She’d been in school with several of them, only one had any known ties to Death Eaters and she’d managed to not to get saddled with one of the Azkaban prisoners. None of them were in their dotage either. Apparently Hermione wasn’t the only one glad to avoid saggy, old man balls.

“So is there anything I need to know about Arthur? I mean, I don’t even know how he takes his tea.”

“Two sugars and just a dollop of cream. Let’s see. What else. He snores like a Hungarian Horntail, so unless you use a silencing spell on him, you won’t sleep a wink if he’s in the room. His neck is quite sensitive. Kissing him there is a sure way to get him going.”

Molly smiled faintly, staring into her tea, but seeing a memory, while Hermione blushed like mad.

“You already know he adores all things Muggle. You’ll be better suited to that hobby than I ever was.” The redhead’s smile was a little sad now, and her eyes were misty.

Hermione reached out and squeezed Molly’s hand. “I’ll never be able to fill your shoes.”

The older woman squeezed back. “Just do your best to love him, even if it’s only ever the fondness you have for him now. That’s all I can hope for.”

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading and taking the time to review! I appreciate your feedback.
> 
> Next up: A politician is persuasive...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My vision of some of the characters differs from the movie casting. I've included the banner below (husbands' images are in the same order as listed in the pairings in the story description starting with Harry and going counterclockwise). I also created a photobucket album with inspirational photos. If you are interested, the link is:  
> http://s863.photobucket.com/user/flibbins/library/Ten%20Too%20Many?sort=3&page=1

_No, you're not allowed to hex the help._

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

CHAPTER FOUR

After lunch, Arthur saw Hermione and Harry off. It was agreed their next stop would be the Ministry to speak with Kingsley and to claim Rodolphus. In the meanwhile, Arthur would owl Lucius Malfoy to arrange a meeting at his manor for their entire household on the following day.

At the door, Arthur stopped Hermione. "It is traditional that we share a kiss to seal our betrothal. May I?" Harry stepped quietly onto the porch, giving them some privacy.

"Of course, Arthur." She turned to him, tilting her face up, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Ever so gently, he cupped her cheeks with both hands and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Then he tipped her head back a bit more and pressed a sweet, soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

It was brief, but somehow managed to warm Hermione all the way to her toes. He backed away, looking a bit shy. "Owl me if you have any troubles, dear. Otherwise I'll owl you with the arrangements for tomorrow."

Hermione smiled, nodded and slipped out the door, surprised and a bit guilty over her reaction to the kiss. Harry was waiting for her on the porch and he took her hand in his as they made their way back down the dusty lane to the apparition point.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

The population decline was most obvious in the Ministry of Magic. Where there used to be scores of witches and wizards bustling through the atrium during business hours, nowadays there were just a handful making their way to the lifts usually only during lunch or at the end of the day. Departments had been consolidated to the point that one wizard might be doing the job of fifty from the previous Ministry. There were only ten witches left on staff and most of them would have to be replaced before too long.

Today the Ministry was even more deserted as Kingsley had given most Ministry employees the day off to deal with their new marital obligations. A rotation of a very limited staff was on duty to cover the essential services. Aside from some security personnel and Aurors, one person was on hand to handle matching questions and complaints, one was scheduling Ministry-performed binding ceremonies, and one was handling the distribution of Azkaban prisoners.

When they approached the Security Wizard, he didn't bother to look up from his book. The place was deserted. "Name?"

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

That got his attention. Harry was even more popular than before, and though he'd been working with the Ministry for a few months now, he hadn't spent much time in the building. That would change soon, as he was supposed to start proper Auror training in a few weeks.

Hermione's name had also been well publicized since the final battle.

"Good day, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. What business do you have here today?"

"We need to speak with the Minister and then we need to stop in to claim a Death Eater," she said, her voice echoing in the grand, empty hall.

"Do you have your claim ticket?"

Harry pulled Hermione's thick Ministry envelope from the inside pocket of his robe and fished through the stack for a page they would have to exchange for Lestrange.

The Security Wizard, identified on his badge as R. Ponter waved his wand over the sheet, nodding his head. "Everything looks in order for picking up the prisoner, Mr. Potter. It's a shame since you lot just managed to put him away; in a million years I'll never understand these politicians. As for the other, I'm afraid the Minister isn't in today. I can make an appointment for you to see him when the Ministry reopens on Monday."

"I'm afraid it's rather more urgent than that. You see Miss Granger is to become his wife and the paperwork lists his current location as ‘Office of the Minister, Ministry of Magic.'"

The Security Wizard immediately backpedaled. "Of course, Miss. I didn't know. You see since the offices are closed, his whereabouts are not supposed to be made known. Security reasons."

Hermione spoke up to reassure the man, "That makes sense, but you understand my need to see him today."

"Of course, of course. Go right on up. Elevator One will allow you to access his offices." He handed them each passes allowing them access throughout the Ministry.

Before they left, Harry paused. "I trust you'll be discreet about our visit today. I'd hate to read about this in the Prophet before Minister Shacklebolt has released an official statement." He said this cordially, but with a clear underlying threat.

"Of course, of course."

"Great. Thanks, Mr. Ponter," Harry said with a nod and a smile before following Hermione to the elevators

After a brief trip, the pair stepped off on Level One. Unsurprisingly there was no one at the reception desk, but the door to the inner office opened before they even had a chance to knock.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, greeted them with a broad smile.

"Hermione. Harry. It's good to see you both," he said in his deep, booming voice while shaking Harry's hand. Then he took her hand in his and brought it up to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. The irritation she felt towards him ebbed, just as it always seemed to do when she was actually in his presence. There was something magnetic about him, or perhaps it was something magical.

He admitted them into his office, which had impressive dark wood and leather furnishings, motioning for them to take a seat. Instead of taking his own chair, he leaned back against the edge of the desk, facing them. "An eventful day. I hope you're bearing the strain without too much difficulty."

She sighed as she sat. "It has been a bit stressful. We stopped at the Weasleys' earlier."

"Yes, I noticed that on your biography."

"Hmm." It was a bit unnerving to think her matches each had a way of monitoring her location and seeing just exactly who she was visiting. "That's a clever bit of magic. Quite handy for keeping track of everyone."

"It is useful, but don't fret, the charm will wear off within a few weeks."

She relaxed a bit at that. "Ah. I worried perhaps Big Brother would always be watching."

At Kingsley's questioning look, Hermione explained, "Muggle novel,  _1984_ , by George Orwell. In the book, the oppressive government is always monitoring its citizens to keep them under control. It's a cautionary tale against taking the path toward a totalitarian state. I'll loan it to you."

Kingsley crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. "It sounds interesting and perhaps like you're drawing a parallel?"

"Perhaps. I do see the potential, but we won't take that path if we don't limit personal freedoms unnecessarily."

"‘Unnecessarily' seems to be the key word there," he said lightly.

"Yes, a subjective word it can be, too."

He smiled, flashing his straight, white teeth. Her parents would love him if they ever got the chance to meet him. "Well I look forward to reading the book and discussing it with you. And of course, I hope you'll help me keep our Ministry on the right path."

She laughed. "I'm certain you'll tire of hearing my opinions at the dinner table, Kingsley."

"I highly doubt that. So is there a plan yet?"

Harry spoke up at this point since Hermione had left the planning to him and Arthur. "Arthur's owling Malfoy to arrange a meeting tomorrow, hopefully at his manor. Then he'll contact everyone with the details. We did want to see if you have any obligations."

"I'll let Arthur know my schedule's free. There's always work to be done, but I don't have any meetings for a change."

"Great. Our next stop is downstairs to pick up Lestrange." Harry's annoyance at this was not hard to read. Of course it was understandable. Two Aurors had suffered from nasty hexes and Rabastan had died from his injuries when they finally caught up to the Lestrange brothers. And a few weeks later Rodolphus was walking free.

The Minister looked grim. "Yes. I took the liberty of looking up the rest of your matches, Hermione, once I got my owl this morning. You're compatible with a varied collection of men."

She rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly."

Harry asked, "Have you seen Lestrange? Did the procedure work?"

"I oversaw the process and saw that each of them was rendered magically inert. They have an ankle cuff which acts as a portkey if they go missing. They've also been fit with behavior modification charms that will prevent them from committing a crime or causing a person harm." He glanced at Hermione. "In this case, I hope you'll agree that the government restriction of freedom is necessary."

"Quite, Kingsley. I'm not advocating anarchy. I do think the government is crossing lines when it starts to legislate the sex-lives of its citizens, but again, in this case it probably is a necessity."

"I genuinely wish the situation was different."

"I know you do. I'm sorry. It's not your fault, or at least it's not  _all_  your fault." He laughed at that, as she'd intended.

"Well I'm certain you need to be on your way." They all stood, but before she could make it to the door, Kingsley stopped her with a hand on her arm. "You wouldn't mind giving me a moment alone with our intended, would you, Harry?"

"No, of course. I'll be right outside, Mione."

Kingsley was a big man, tall and broad with muscle, not fat. But never had he seemed larger than now as he stepped closer to her, eliminating all the polite distance between them.

"I am very pleased to be marrying you, Hermione."

"And I, you," she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"Are you? I know you've disagreed with some of my decisions recently. And it's no secret that you fought this initiative."

"That is true. I think this is an extreme step." She sighed. "But I also know our options are limited and this is the safest course, if not the easiest."

"I agree with you, but unfortunately I must look past my own feelings and try to do what is the greatest good."

"I understand. It's difficult to be idealistic and effective at the same time."

"Yes, but I do appreciate having you remind me what we should be striving toward. I hope you continue to do so, perhaps in the capacity as one of my advisors."

Excitement bubbled up at the idea. "Truly?"

He laughed, deep and rich. "Of course. You're one of our brightest minds and you have a fresh perspective. I know you're concerned about wasting your talents and abilities by becoming a...what was it?"

"A baby factory."

"That's right. I think it would be a great crime to allow that to happen. You may find you have many demands on your time, but I will always encourage your input, Hermione."

She smiled. "I think I'd like that."

"Good. Now, for the less pleasant aspects of political life. There will be times that you may be required to appear in public as my wife. Not that you were anonymous before, but soon you'll be even less so."

Oh, the joys of life lived under a microscope. Not that she didn't already have that problem as one third of the Golden Trio. "I will do my best to be the dutiful Minister's wife."

"I'm certain you'll excel in this as you do in everything else." He tucked one wayward curl behind her ear, his fingertip brushing along the curve of her jaw. Her breath caught. "Unfortunately I will be busy much of the time, but you'll have others to keep you occupied."

"No doubt I'll have more attention than one witch could possibly stand," she said wryly. Both chuckled. They were standing so close she could feel the sound rumbling in his chest.

The maddening finger continued to trace light patterns over her neck, until it seemed every nerve in her body was drawn tight in anticipation. "Very well," he said, his voice soft and deep. "Harry's waiting for you and I've got to write my own press releases nowadays."

"Let me know if I can help you."

"I will. Before you go, may I give you a kiss to seal our betrothal?"

She nodded and lifted onto to her tiptoes. He stooped a little to meet her halfway. His lips were soft, but firm and his body was warm and hard where it pressed against her. Unlike the kisses she'd gotten earlier from Harry and Arthur, Kingsley didn't stop with a mere peck. With gentle pressure, he encouraged her lips to part so he could deepen the contact. His hands, resting on her hips, flexed and pulled her closer and she grasped his biceps to steady herself when she felt her knees go weak.

Too soon, he pulled away, a devilish light in his eyes. "Yes, I think this will be a good match indeed. Owl me if you need anything, little one." He took her hand in his, pressed another kiss into her wrist and escorted her to the door.

"I will see you tomorrow."

The kiss still had her in a bit of a daze when she walked out of his office.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Harry had to laugh at Hermione's slightly vacant expression as they made their way to Level Two where the prisoners were being distributed. He wondered if he shouldn't be a bit jealous, but it in the end it wasn't worth it. For one, Ron's jealousy never got him anywhere with Hermione and for another he was going to have to share her in any case. He'd just have to get used to it.

As they were stepping off the lift they ran into another witch who was escorting the big, blond Death Eater, Rowle. Another one he had worked hard to help find and bring in a few months ago.

Harry glared at the man as he passed and the Death Eater glared back, but then fell to his knees, clutching his head.

It wasn't especially charitable, but he couldn't help smirking at the suffering man. Maybe this release program wasn't so bad after all. Instead of sitting in prison, wasting resources, the Death Eaters could pay back their debt to society and experience a little torture whenever they were bad.

The witch, an older woman Harry had never met, prodded the blond with her wand and barked at him to get moving. At least it didn't look like Rowle was going to have an easy time of it. She'd probably have the man working like a house-elf.

Hermione looked a little disgusted at the whole situation and Harry had a feeling she'd soon be sporting pins to ensure the humane treatment of Death Eater prisoners.

As the big man struggled to get up and onto the elevator, they walked over to the claims desk and Harry handed their ticket over to the attendant.

In a bored monotone he read from the sheet. "Rodolphus Alexander Lestrange. 41 years old. Born on June 2, 1957. Height is six foot even. Weight is 10 stone, 12 pounds. And you are Miss Granger?"

"Yes."

"I'll need to see your apparition license and wand for verification."

She huffed and dug into her purse for her wallet. The wizard would have to be living under a rock to not recognize her name and face, but the Ministry loved its protocols. Once she'd dug out the license, she handed it over to him along with her wand.

He looked at the license and looked at her several times before handing it back. With a flick of his own wand, he verified that her wand's specifications matched those listed on her license and then he returned that as well.

"You have to sign some forms and then I'll bring out your prisoner. This first one makes the man your ward and your responsibility."

"Fabulous," she said dryly, making Harry choke on a laugh. The other wizard ignored her, taking the form back after she'd signed.

"The next is a list of regulations regarding his behavior and conduct and yours as his ward." It was a five foot parchment with tiny print.

He launched into a rehearsed speech that he'd obviously delivered a half-dozen times today already. "In summary it says you are not permitted to torture, beat, mistreat, or kill your prisoner except in self-defense. You may assign him reasonable tasks in exchange for his upkeep. You must provide him adequate food, water, shelter, clothing, and other necessities. Failure to do so will result in a fine. The Ministry is providing you a small monthly stipend to defray the financial burden.

"He will have to report to the Ministry annually to renew the behavior modification charms. A notice will be sent out and his parole will be revoked if he fails to comply in a timely manner. He's required to report immediately in the unlikely event that the modifications begin to weaken early. If that does occur, you are authorized to use any means necessary to subdue the prisoner and return him to the Ministry.

"If he presents an immediate danger to himself or someone else, you can activate his portkey and he will be sent directly to a Ministry holding cell. The incantation is  _Portus Captus_  and that information should be shared with all other members of the household. It can also be activated remotely from the Ministry if he goes missing. You must report if the prisoner goes missing, or in any way violates the law; failure to do so will result in a fine.

"He is not to have contact with other paroled prisoners whether in person, by owl, or by any other means. He is to have only limited exposure to the public. When in public he must be chaperoned at all times. Approved reasons include medical care, Ministry business and emergency situations. Otherwise, you must complete this form in advance and wait for approval. Allow at least one week. Any questions?"

Ever the responsible one, Hermione's eyes scanned over the parchment, actually reading the document the wizard had glossed over. After a few minutes, she answered the increasingly impatient wizard.

"I do have a question. Will I need approval to take him out and about in Muggle communities?"

The wizard looked at her like she'd grown two heads and sputtered for a moment. Hermione had obviously thrown him off his routine. "I don't see why you would want to do that, Miss, but if you absolutely must, then that shouldn't be a problem provided he's chaperoned. We don't want prisoners wandering around the wizarding communities as they may incite panic in our citizenry."

Hermione nodded, but the wizard continued, "I'll remind you that this man is a nasty bugger, even with the Ministry charms. He'll still have evil impulses; he just won't be able to act on them. You might want to reconsider any romantic notions of cozy dinners and long walks on the beach."

Hermione smiled tightly. "I assure you I know the character of this man and the other Death Eaters. I've been fighting them since I was twelve. But I also think it could be educational and possibly even reformational for him to be exposed to the Muggle world. He is essentially a Muggle himself now."

Harry smirked. It was just like Hermione to take Lestrange on as her new project. He just hoped she wouldn't be disappointed if the man refused to cooperate. Of course she wasn't one to take defeat easily.

"He isn't worth the effort," the Ministry official returned, "but like I said, as long as you aren't in wizarding communities and he's chaperoned,  _Stupefy_ yourself. Unless you have any other questions, initial here and sign at the bottom."

She signed and handed it back. "I'd like a copy of that for my records."

"I'm certain you would." His tone was a bit mocking and Hermione bristled. Harry put his hand on the small of her back, to calm her down before she bit the man's head off, or hexed the man's bits off.

After he duplicated the form and handed the copy to her, he turned and walked off, presumably to fetch Lestrange. They waited in silence, Hermione fiddling with a loose string on the cuff of her robe, while he pulled at one of her honey-brown curls, watching it spring back into place.

A few minutes later, the attendant wizard returned followed by Lestrange, who towered over the short civil servant. Lestrange's hands were cuffed in front with magical shackles and he was wearing plain black robes and black shoes. His hair was long and unkempt and he had several days beard growth. His face was impassive even as his gaze fell on the pair waiting at the desk.

Anger flared in Harry at the sight of the wizard that he'd worked so hard to track down and imprison. This Death Eater would share his best friend - his wife.

He should have hexed Kingsley while he had the chance.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

The attendant brought Lestrange around the desk and held out a clipboard to Hermione. "Sign here that the correct prisoner has been transferred into your custody." Once she had, the magical cuffs dissolved and the attendant took the clipboard back. "He's all yours. Enjoy."

She glared at the flippant Ministry worker's back. It would be so satisfying to hex that man. But she restrained herself. Kingsley wouldn't appreciate it if she caused a scandal already.

She looked back at the tall, shabby man who would soon be numbered among her husbands. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced, what with our previous encounters occurring during the heat of battle. I'm Hermione Granger. This is Harry Potter."

Rodolphus nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't speak. Harry nodded tightly and then looked away.

Hermione sighed. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portus Captus roughly translates to "Transport Prisoner."
> 
> Thanks for taking time to review or leave kudos! I appreciate it. Happy 2014!
> 
> Next up: Things get a little Lestrange...


	5. Chapter 5

_Who are you and what did you do with the evil Death Eater?_

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

CHAPTER FIVE

"Let's go, Mr. Lestrange. We've much to do. You'll need clothes and a haircut and shave." She turned and made for the elevators, trusting that the men would follow her.

Once they were heading to the atrium to exit the building, Hermione said, "I think we should stop at the barber and H&M to pick up some clothing. Easiest to take the Tube up to Camden and then walk home, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry grunted in response, his eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

Abruptly the elevator stopped. She couldn't take this. "Excuse me, Mr. Lestrange, but I need a private moment with Harry." She cast the  _Muffliato_  and turned on her green-eyed friend.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

"You've been really great today. Very supportive. And I love you for it, Harry. But I have to ask you another favor. I need you to set aside your hatred for Rodolphus and be civil. I know it's a lot to ask, maybe it's too much, but I have to be...intimate with this man. It would make it much easier for me if you could just pretend to get along for my sake. Please?"

Harry nodded after a moment. "I'll try to be good. For you. But if he-"

"If he puts so much as one pinky toe out of line, you have my permission to kick his arse."

He smiled a little at that. "Well, all right."

"Thank you, Harry." She flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugged her back for a moment until she realized they were still in the elevator with an audience.

Cheeks hot, she straightened, canceled the muffling charm and restarted the elevator, setting her robe back to rights and patting her hair.

She stepped off the elevator, again without looking back, knowing they would follow.

"Have a good day, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," the Security Wizard called as they walked past, their footfalls echoing through the empty, cavernous space.

Once they were at the exit, Hermione stopped and shrugged out of her robe, revealing the jeans and sweater she was wearing beneath. Harry did the same and then they looked to Rodolphus.

He looked at them for a moment and then said, "I've nothing on beneath the robes."

Stupid, stingy Ministry couldn't even provide a pair of trousers. Well he certainly wouldn't be the oddest person on the Tube in his robes, but he would still attract attention. Hermione turned her wand on her discarded robe and transfigured it into a pair of black trousers.

"Here, they're probably a little large, but I can fit them once you've got them on." She turned around once he'd taken them and waited for him to dress. Harry watched him, probably worried the man was going to attack while her back was turned.

When he was finished, she turned back around. "May I change your robe into something more appropriate for Muggle London?"

He looked wary, but nodded. She swished and flicked and his robe became a warm, black turtleneck sweater. Then she shrunk the pants just a hair so they weren't too loose.

"Perfect. Let's go, shall we?"

As they walked she could feel Rodolphus looking at her. He was walking just slightly behind her and she had the distinct feeling he was looking at her bum, but she couldn't catch him at it. Harry trailed behind, probably too worried Rodolphus would run off to notice her new jeans.

It was amusing to watch the ex-Death Eater as they rode the escalator down into the Tube station and even more entertaining trying to teach him how to use the turnstile. The platform where they waited was deserted as it was not quitting time yet and Rodolphus was leaning over looking at the tracks, making Hermione rather nervous.

"Please be careful. The track is electrified. It can kill you if you touch it, and the trains come very fast."

"We're taking a train like to Hogwarts?"

"The same idea, but a bit different. These make stops locally to help people get around the city."

"Wouldn't it be easier to apparate?"

"Yes and no. If we were going directly home that would be fine. But it's risky to apparate blind in such a populated area. Besides I'm exhausted and I'm not up to side-along. And the last time I apparated from the Ministry with someone side-along, they got splinched."

"It didn't help we were running for our lives at the time," Harry said in an effort to make her feel better.

"No and it didn't help that I had to change course mid-apparition to get rid of Yaxley. At least Ron didn't lose anything vital."

She and Harry laughed at the memory that had been anything but funny at the time.

The train came then and they boarded a car, minding the gap. The seats were all full, so they stood, hanging onto an overhead bar, the men on either side of her.

"We need to exit quickly when it's our stop," she told her new ward.

He nodded at her but he was focused on the seats behind her. When she saw him wince in pain, she looked over her shoulder to see what he'd been staring at and to gauge what evil he'd been contemplating.

Sitting behind her was a guy about her age, his eyes fixed on her arse. She looked back up at Rodolphus.

"Your Muggle clothing has some disadvantages. Evidently I'm not permitted to punch him for ogling you." He winced again when he said the word "punch."

"There isn't anything to stop me," Harry said, placing one arm around her waist and pulling her so she nestled against his body, effectively hiding her bum from view.

Though it was a bit flattering to have them act possessive, it would get old quickly. "No need for violence, guys. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

Rodolphus nodded. "I'm certain that's true."

After a few stops and a line change, they made it to their destination with little excitement.

Their next stop was a little barber shop that Harry occasionally used. The Death Eater was quite leery of entering the Muggle establishment.

"I don't know about this. Perhaps you could cut my hair."

"I definitely wouldn't recommend that," Harry said, ruffling his already messy black mop. "It's taken a year for my hair to grow out right from when she cut mine."

Hermione smacked Harry on the arm and then said, "He's right. I'm pants as a barber. But you'll be fine. Harry is going to get a cut too."

"I am?"

"Please, Harry? It's getting a bit out of hand and we are getting married in a few days."

"All right," he conceded reluctantly.

"Thanks, Harry." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but at the last moment he turned his head and caught her lips with his, kissing her thoroughly right there on the street.

Someone passing wolf-whistled and Hermione pulled away, blushing. "Sorry about that, Mione. I couldn't resist any longer. You're cute when you're bossy."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm always bossy, Harry."

His eyes were dancing as he agreed, "Mmmhmm."

Half flattered, half annoyed, she smacked him on the arm again and turned to find Rodolphus staring determinedly in the shop's window. Neither man argued as Hermione dragged them inside.

After a quick consultation, it was agreed that Rodolphus' hair would not be cut too short. When the task was finished, his dark locks fell in long, wavy layers, the ends curling at his collar. He still had some facial hair, but it was trimmed close. Hermione had to admit that he was handsome.

"Do you approve, Miss Granger?" he asked when he caught her staring.

She swallowed and nodded. "Indeed. It's quite an improvement."

His lips quirked in the slightest hint of a smile.

Harry came up then, thankfully interrupting the tense moment. He still looked like Harry, only a little less shaggy. With a nervous glance at Rodolphus, she let Harry grab her hand and lead her out of the shop toward the department store.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

It wasn't until an hour later, when Hermione had gone to the register to pay for the clothes, that Harry had a chance to speak with Lestrange alone.

"Hermione wants me to be civil to you and I will do my best for her sake. But do not mistake civility for trust. I will be watching and if you hurt her, if you so much as look cross-eyed at her, you will be wishing for your cozy little cell in Azkaban. I killed your Dark Lord. I can handle you." The older man did not betray surprise at the threat, nor did he appear to doubt its sincerity. "Now nod if you understand."

Lestrange nodded.

"Well, that put a dent in my card," Hermione said as she walked up to the pair, not noticing the tension. "But it should keep you at least until I can get to Diagon Alley and pick up a few robes. You'll have to make me a list."

Very gravely he said, "Thank you, Miss Granger. You are quite generous. May I carry the bags?" She let him take the bags from her hand, obviously surprised by his manners.

"T-thanks. Er...Harry, are you ready to go?"

"Sure, Hermione. Home?"

"Yes, I'm anxious to get off my feet."

Harry took her hand again as they walked out. The urge to claim her as his own had been increasing, especially since he caught her admiring Lestrange earlier. Sharing her with Arthur and Kingsley, men he respected, was one thing. Seeing her attraction to this Death Eater felt like a bit of a betrayal.

The walk home was short and quiet. Every few moments, he would look over at Lestrange, just waiting for him to make a wrong move. But he hadn't. In fact, all afternoon he'd been polite, if a bit aloof.

He wasn't at all what Harry expected. He had anticipated disdain at the least, but wouldn't have been surprised at outright belligerence. Of course, that would have given him a reason to hit the wizard with a  _Silencio_  and Hermione wouldn't be softening toward her new ward and future husband.

The only time Lestrange had acted as if charmed with the  _Morum Immotatione_  was on the Tube. Harry had heard his explanation and couldn't blame him for wanting to hit the Muggle. He had some violent thoughts himself when he saw how the kid was looking at Hermione.

He supposed he couldn't really blame Hermione for being nice to Lestrange either. She was going to have to spend time in his company; all of them were. That would be easier if they were on friendly terms and so far the man hadn't done anything to suggest he wasn't willing to be cooperative. Hell, he'd even let her pick out his clothing without complaint.

In Grimmauld Square, Hermione paused to tell Lestrange that Harry Potter lived at 12 Grimmauld Place. He wasn't especially thrilled about allowing a former Death Eater into his home, but since Hermione had helped recast the  _Fidelius_ , the secret was safe. She was his Secret Keeper and he trusted her more than anyone. And Rodolphus was relatively harmless. But even a snake with his fangs pulled still bore watching.

"How did you come to own the ancestral Black estate?" The question was curious, not accusatory, but it still set Harry on edge.

"It was left to me by my godfather, Sirius Black. You know, the one your crazy bitch of a wife murdered."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Hermione watched as Harry stormed into the house and she heard Walburga Black's portrait start yelling before it was quickly silenced.

Things had been going so well until then.

She looked at Rodolphus who was staring after Harry.

"I did not mean to offend," he said after a moment.

She sighed. "I know. Unfortunately your history and past associations are offensive on their own. I don't say that to be rude, only to warn you to tread carefully. Your mere existence will be enough to cause offense for some." Like Neville. She was going to have to speak with him before the meeting tomorrow. It would be unfair, and possibly dangerous, for him to walk into the situation blindly.

"But you are not offended by my existence?"

"I am trying very hard to see you as an individual and not as one of the collective of Death Eaters. I am willing to treat you with respect as long as you return the courtesy. We can each make the other's lives more difficult and my life is difficult enough at the moment, so I'd rather not if you don't mind."

"You are a very good witch, Hermione Granger. Kind and fair. I will do what I can to make your life easier."

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "We need to go in. I'd like to check on Harry."

She escorted Rodolphus up to the third floor, placing him the bedroom across the hall from her, the one Ron had been using before he moved back home. A couple quick spells tidied up, handled the dust and made the bed with clean sheets. He had agreed to stay put until she could assess the situation with Harry. She left him there promising to fetch him when dinner was ready. "I'm sorry I don't have time now, but I'll get you some reading materials later."

"I would enjoy reading or drawing if you have the opportunity to bring me something, but I am well accustomed to passing time without diversions. I will be fine."

Closing the door behind her, she cast a ward to alert her if he left. He seemed sincere enough, but Hermione didn't survive the war by being a fool.

She then made her way down the hall to the master bedroom, Harry's room, and knocked softly. Sirius Black was one of those tricky subjects. At times, Harry could laugh and talk about Sirius as if he were truly at peace with his passing. And then there were times when the horror of losing him, and Ginny, and the others was still very fresh.

"Harry," she called softly, opening the door a crack when there was no answer. "May I come in?" She heard an inarticulate grunt and decided to take that as a yes. Opening the door enough to slip inside, she saw Harry sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

Hermione sat down next to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder and he immediately turned to her, wrapping her in a hug. He was dry-eyed but trembling and she shifted so she could hold him better, making soft calming sounds.

After a long silence he said, "I'm sorry, Mione. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Shh. It's okay. I understand. But to be honest I don't think he meant to upset you."

"I know. I overreacted."

"No. It's okay to be upset."

"Sometimes I feel like we'll never be free of Voldemort. He's been gone almost a year and he's still ruining our lives. This doesn't feel like a victory."

"This is the part the movies don't show, Harry. The good guys win, the credits roll and it's supposed to be happily ever after. But in the real world you have to work every day to get to the happy ending."

"It's not fair."

"No, but it's better than the alternative. It's better than having Voldemort running around, gaining strength, taking over the whole world. You and I would both be dead, or worse."

His arms tightened around her spasmodically. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

"You don't ever have to wonder because wherever you go, I'm going too."

He lifted his head from her shoulder and sat back a bit to look down on her. "I love you, Mione."

His lips brushed against hers then, a silent benediction to his declaration. He kissed her again and this time he lingered until she opened to him. With that, his tongue found its way into her mouth, tasting her. Her response was tentative at first and unpracticed, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed her with more fervor and she responded in kind.

She wasn't certain when it happened, but at some point during the kiss she went from sitting next to him to lying under him. Any secret worries she had about Harry seeing her as more than a friend were quashed as she felt him hard against her thigh. And the reaction he was creating in her, a heat concentrating low in her belly, was new and exciting and definitely not platonic.

His hand was gentle as it caressed her face and neck, brushing lightly over the side of her breast, down past her hip to her knee. With the slightest pressure, he encouraged her legs to part so he could settle between them, his hardness now nestling against her hot center.

She arched into him, moving instinctively, causing him to moan into her mouth. He ground against her, making her whimper. His hand found the edge of her sweater and was starting to make its way over the smooth, bare skin of her belly when she heard the alarm for the wards on Rodolphus' room.

"Damn," she muttered.

Harry pulled up, a question on his brow.

"I put Rodolphus in Ron's old room and warded the door. I hoped it wouldn't be necessary."

He was moving reluctantly away from her when they heard a yell.

"Oi! What the bloody hell are you doing in here?"

Recognizing that strident voice, they both jumped up and ran to the hall.

They found Ron standing with his wand drawn, presumably pointed at Rodolphus through the open doorway.

"Put your wand down, Ron," Hermione said, flicking out her own wand from its wrist holster.

Ron spun, wobbling a bit. His hair was mussed, his eyes glassy. It looked like he'd been on an all-night bender, but it wasn't even suppertime yet.

"There's a Death Eater in my room. Why's ‘ere a Death Eater in my room?"

"It isn't your room anymore Ron. Remember? You're living at the Burrow."

"Can't go ‘ome like thish. Mum'ld kick my arshe."

"Why would you come here? Last we saw you, you punched Harry and called me a Mudblood whore."

"Ancient history."

"It was five hours ago."

"'S'at all? Feels like longer. You know yer lucky, mate. Marryin' Hermimony. My wife's a fat, spotty, Huff-huff-hufflepuff." He leaned against the wall, his wand arm drooping. "Funny word, Pufflehuff is."

She summoned Ron's wand as he pondered the etymology of Hufflepuff and said to Harry, "Let's put him in my room. He needs to sleep this off."

"I'd rather put him on the front step and let the Muggles put him in jail."

"I don't think Molly and Arthur would appreciate that and Kingsley wouldn't thank you either. He's a Statute of Secrecy breach waiting to happen."

"Fine, if you want to use logic."

"Whenever possible."

He grinned at her and they each took one of Ron's arms leading him to her room. She used her wand to remove his boots and outer robes while Harry pulled the coverlet down.

He fell into the bed without grace and caught her hand as she pulled the covers over him. "You know I love you, Hermimony. I didn't mean what I said."

She looked at the sad eyes of the man that she once desired above all others. It wasn't true anymore. Call her a fickle female, but she knew he wasn't the one for her, with or without a law. Over and over he tried his best to break her heart. Today was just the most recent instance.

She pulled her hand away and patted the covers. "You can apologize to me properly in the morning when you're sober."

"‘Kay." He closed his eyes and curled up on his side. She moved a dustbin next to the bed, just in case.

Once they were back in the hall with the door closed behind, Harry looked into the room where Rodolphus was sitting in a chair overlooking the shabby little square below. In a low voice he told Hermione, "I'll ward the front door, I don't see the point in forcing him to sit in that room staring out the window." He left to start dinner and Hermione turned to check on Rodolphus.

"Did he hurt you, Mr. Lestrange?"

"No, Miss Granger. You intervened before he could do anything. It was lucky he tripped your ward."

Heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks. "Yes. I'm sorry to be distrustful, but you are my responsibility and I take that seriously. I will not allow you to come to harm or for you to cause another harm if I can help it."

"I'm glad you aren't as naïve as you seem. You will make a fine mother, I think."

"We'll find out soon enough, I guess. Would you care for a tour?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger, if I won't be in the way."

"Harry's making dinner and other than Ron, whom you just met, we're alone."

"Doesn't Mr. Potter have a house-elf?"

"Kreacher's at Hogwarts, helping with the clean-up. We aren't used to having servants underfoot and prefer to manage on our own. Harry does most of the cooking and I help with the washing up. Mrs. Weasley has shared a number of household charms that make it easy."

She walked to the stairs and gestured to the floor above. "There are two bedrooms on the fourth level. They belonged to Sirius and Regulus. I would suggest you stay out of them in the spirit of peace."

She showed him the other floors, the drawing room, the library and the dining room that Harry never bothered to use. Then she brought him to the back stairs that led down into the kitchen. When they were there, she gestured for Rodolphus to have a seat at the table and she asked if Harry needed help.

"No. I'm about done. Arthur owled. The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow at 11. The letter's on the table."

She scooped up the letter and read the neat, slanting script. When she was finished, she told Harry, "I'm going to owl back to let him know Ron is here and not to worry."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

The silence was tense in the kitchen after Hermione left. Harry focused on the stew though it didn't need that much attention.

The man at the table cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize, Mr. Potter."

Harry put down the spoon and turned. "If you mean about what happened earlier, then I accept. Other than that, I'm not in any position to forgive your sins."

"I don't think anyone is in that position, Mr. Potter. I was merely referring to the unintentional offense earlier."

Harry stared at him for a minute. "I really don't get you. In the war you were on the side that hates people like me or Hermione just because of our heritage. What's more, she and I stood against you and won. I was on the team that found you, and I fought to bring you in. A fight that ended in your brother's death, though I think it was his own spell that caused the cave-in."

"It was," Lestrange said in a tight voice.

"Even so, I have a hard time believing you can simply sit here and pretend it doesn't bother you. I doubt Lucius Malfoy will make any effort to hide his disapproval and dislike for either Hermione or me. And it's a mutual loathing, I assure you. So I'd like to know why you can sit at my table, ready to eat a meal I've made as if you're a houseguest and not under house-arrest."

It took Lestrange so long to respond that Harry thought perhaps he wasn't going to. "Many things have happened, Mr. Potter, and I find myself struggling to understand them, but I do not think the best course of action would be to reject the only kindness I've experienced in almost two decades. Not for a dogma that I am now certain is illogical, though I will admit I once supported it blindly.

"Two days ago, my magic was ripped from me. A pain more excruciating than the  _Cruciatus_. Now I'm as magical as this table. I would be first on the list of unworthy, useless beings that the Dark Lord would destroy. If you believe nothing else, believe that I've had reason to rethink my previous convictions.

"I bear no grudge against you for defending your right to live freely, though I'm certain many of my former brethren do. Personally, I'd have no respect for you or Miss Granger if you had just succumbed like so many others."

"We don't need your approval or your respect."

Rodolphus nodded. "You have it nonetheless."

Harry turned back to the stove, stirring the stew with vicious motions that threatened to make the whole thing spill. The more the man talked, the less sense he made. What kind of Death Eater reversed their loyalties so easily? Except Malfoy. But Harry knew he was loyal only to his own survival. Malfoy would jump on the next Dark Lord's bandwagon in a second if he thought there was a chance he'd end up in power.

With Lucius Malfoy, he knew where they stood - on ever shifting ground. With Rodolphus, he couldn't help feeling they were being set up for betrayal.

It just meant he'd have to remain vigilant.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morum Immotatione = Behavior Modification
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it.
> 
> Neville is up next.


	6. Chapter 6

_I could have sworn you were an angel...but the toad knows better._

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**CHAPTER SIX**

After dinner, Hermione showed Rodolphus how to do dishes the old-fashioned way and he took to the task with little difficulty and no argument.

When that was done, she found Harry in the drawing room, fiddling with the telly she'd charmed to work without electricity.

"I'm going to floo Neville and see if I can visit with him for a little while. I don't want him to be caught unawares tomorrow."

"Okay. Where's Lestrange?"

"I think he was going to pick out something from the library and read in his room. Here's Ron's wand in case he wakes up before I'm back. I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave him with it. Even sober he'd probably hex first and ask questions later."

"I'll keep an eye on things while you're gone. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Harry." She leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips, which he immediately tried to take advantage of. "None of that now, or I'll never get to Neville's."

He pouted playfully and gave her another quick kiss before she moved to the fireplace.

It took only a moment for Neville to answer her floo call and invite her over.

Longbottom Hall was a stately old home, not quite as grand as Malfoy Manor, but still impressive. Hermione had been here once before and recognized the room as the downstairs parlor.

She sat on a plush settee while Neville poured them each a beverage. It looked like he was drinking Firewhiskey and had been for a while now.

The room, the entire house, was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the fireplace. It was a little unsettling.

"Is your grandmother well?" she asked, more to fill up the silence than for any other reason.

"Yeah, she's gone up to bed for the night." He handed her a smoking glass. "I must say she was quite please it was you I ended up with."

"And how do you feel about it?"

He shrugged and slumped onto the sofa across from her. His jaw was stubbled with beard and his hair was as unkempt as Harry's.

"I want Luna back," he said, his face crumpling for a moment before he got ahold of himself.

It had seemed that Luna, his girlfriend since the final battle, was going to be spared by the plague, but she suddenly fell ill and went quickly, not long before the cure was discovered.

"I'm sorry." Hermione moved to his side, tears coming to her own eyes. She'd come to care for the odd little witch and missed her, but she couldn't imagine how Neville must feel.

"What's worse is there's a part of me that's happy it's you," he said, staring into his glass. "I had such a crush on you in school. You had to know. You were always so helpful and nice, even when the others weren't. And then at the Yule Ball, I thought you were the prettiest girl there. But I knew you didn't feel like that for me. Nobody did, ‘til Luna. And doesn't that sound awful. Like I was settling for her because she was the best I could do, but that's not it at all. She was smart and sweet, a lot like you. And she was so funny and we were going to get married. But she's gone and it's my fault."

"Don't say that, Neville. That isn't true."

"It is though. She was fine and then we, that is to say  _I_ , got her pregnant. She was dead two weeks later."

"Oh, Neville. Why didn't you tell anyone?" She hugged him then, cradling him against her like she had Harry earlier.

"I couldn't. I just...I miss her."

"Of course you do. You love her." She felt him shudder, his arms snaking around her waist to clutch her closer. "But you have to stop blaming yourself. You didn't do this to her, Voldemort did."

"But if we'd just waited..."

"You didn't know and you could spend your whole life wondering about what might have happened differently. What if we'd managed to kill Voldemort earlier, or if the Ministry had protected itself better, or if they believed Harry back at the end of fourth year. You can drive yourself crazy with what-ifs. I don't think Luna would want you to dwell on things you can't change."

He didn't answer. He just held onto her for a long time.

His voice was tormented when he finally said, "I was prepared to hate the witch the Ministry picked for me, just because she wasn't Luna, because no one can take her place. But how can I hate you? I've half loved you half my life."

"Oh, Neville, I could never take her place. I wouldn't even want to try. It won't be the same, but I am your friend and I care for you. It's okay for you to love her, for you to always love her. And it's okay for you to miss her. Just because you're being forced to marry me doesn't mean you have to stop."

"I don't want to forget her."

"You won't, but it's natural for it to get easier. It's natural to keep her with you, but to eventually stop mourning. Going on with your life doesn't mean that you're forgetting her. Certainly she would've wanted for you to live a full life."

He was silent for a while and she hoped he would accept the truth in her words. After a few moments, he sat back and swiped at his eyes, but he seemed a bit better. He used his thumb to brush away a tear that had streaked down her cheek.

"You know, she always liked you, Hermione."

"I liked her too and I won't let you forget her."

"Thanks." He hugged her again and they stayed that way for several minutes before she remembered the original purpose of her trip. "Neville, I need to warn you about some of the other husbands."

His arms flexed around her. "Mr. Weasley already owled me. I know about Lestrange and the rest." His voice was cold.

"I just didn't want you to be surprised."

"As long as I don't have to speak to him, I'll do my best to ignore him."

"I'm sorry. I'd keep him away from you altogether if it was possible."

"This isn't your fault, Hermione."

"I know, but somehow I feel like I have to take care of you all."

"That's probably the binding magic."

"Binding magic?" She sat back and cocked her head to the side. "I don't think I've read about that."

"When a betrothal contract is issued there's a mild compulsion charm that encourages the parties to consummate the contract. In essence, the Ministry contracted you to each of your wizards and so you feel drawn to us. It doesn't override your will, and it doesn't make you fall in love or forget why you might not like your betrothed, but it will make you feel the need to be near him. The same goes for us. I almost came to find you at least a dozen times today."

"Why didn't I know about this?"

"It's an old pureblood thing for arranged marriages. That way they can ensure both of them show up at the wedding."

"And of course the Ministry invoked this magic to make certain we follow the law. Damned interfering...I swear I'm going to make Kingsley pay."

"Don't hurt him too badly. He's the best Minister we've had in ages. Besides, you would probably be taking care of us all in any case. That's just the way you are. You take care of people. I mean you helped search for a little boy's lost toad when you hardly even knew him."

She chuckled at the memory.

"You don't mind if I hold you for just a bit longer," he said, opening his arms to her.

"No, it's rather nice. You've grown quite fit, Neville Longbottom." She wasn't exaggerating. Gone was the pudgy little boy and in his place was a tall man with lean muscles.

He laughed in his self-deprecating way and then leaned back into the corner of the sofa, pulling her with him. She slipped her shoes off and curled her feet up next to her, laying her head on his chest, over his heart.

They lay there for a long time watching the fire burn lower. At some point she must've fallen asleep because she woke when the floo rang. Harry's head appeared in the flame as Neville slipped out from under her and went to kneel before the fireplace.

"Sorry to bother you, Neville, but it's getting late and I was worried about Mione."

"It's no problem mate, we fell asleep. I'll get her up and send her through in a minute."

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, can't wait."

Harry laughed at the sarcastic comment and disappeared.

Hermione sat up and stretched. "Sorry I fell asleep on you. It's been a long day."

"I didn't mind, but it is late and tomorrow will be even longer. I should let you get home."

He offered her a hand to help her up and she slipped on her shoes. They walked together to the fireplace. Before he reached for the floo powder, he turned to her. "Thank you for listening. I needed to get all that out."

"Anytime. And I mean that."

He reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, his hand lingering where it cupped her neck. Ever so slowly, he leaned toward her as if giving her a chance to back away. Then his lips were on hers, the stubble of his chin rubbing against her. His mouth tasted faintly of Firewhiskey and moved languidly.

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, and when they parted, she rasped her thumb over the prickly hair.

"Sorry, I'll shave tomorrow."

"Only if you want to. Between you and me, I think it's kinda sexy." She kissed him again, just a peck as his lips twisted into a smile.

He reached for the floo pot and tossed a pinch of the green powder into the flames. "I'll see you in the morning."

With a nod and a small wave, she stepped into the fire and went home to Harry.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Hermione spent the night sharing Harry's bed since there was still a redhead in hers. For a moment, Hermione worried that Harry would expect to pick up where they'd left off earlier, but he didn't. He just kissed her goodnight and fell asleep, his body spooning hers. She was partly relieved and partly disappointed that they went straight to bed. On the one hand, she had enjoyed how he made her feel, but on the other, she wanted to go to her wedding a virgin. She'd made it this long and it seemed silly to give up so close to the finish.

Morning came quickly since she'd gone to bed late, but it was lovely to wake up with Harry's arm holding her tight.

He was making eggs when she came down to breakfast, still in her nightwear, with her face freshly washed and her hair and teeth brushed. Harry was still in his pajamas, but he'd thrown on a t-shirt in deference to their "guest." She shuffled to the coffee maker and poured a mug, deeply inhaling the reviving aroma as she took a few sips.

Rodolphus was sitting at the table looking ready for the day. "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning, Mr. Lestrange. I trust you slept well."

"Better than I have in ages, thank you."

She approached Harry and kissed his cheek, asking if he needed any help. He knew better than to have her help with breakfast. She was good with potions, but for some reason, that skill didn't translate completely into cooking. She was brilliant at baking with its precise measures, but that subtle art of a perfectly fried egg eluded her.

Instead, she set the table, remembering at the last moment to add a place for Ron.

As if her thought conjured him, the redhead stumbled into the room, still in his rumpled robes from the day before. He sat with a thump, his eyes at half-mast.

He had taken a large bite from a piece of toast before he realized everyone was staring at him.

"What?"

Hermione shook her head, partly in disgust at the view of half-masticated toast, but also because it figured Ron would be worried more about his breakfast than the drama he caused the day before.

"I think the problem is you punched me and insulted Hermione yesterday and now you're acting like nothing happened." It was Harry who answered, setting a platter of bacon and eggs on the table and taking his own seat.

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione. "Well, you hit me back and you're marrying the girl I love, so I think we're even." His tone was defiant though his stance wasn't. "And I apologized to Hermione last night. Didn't I?"

Through gritted teeth, she said, "I don't think it counts, Ronald, if you're too drunk to pronounce my name correctly." She stood from the table, chest bouncing with the motion.

Ron's eyes flicked to her breasts and she crossed her arms over them, glaring. He looked back at up at her, shame-faced. "I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said that yesterday. It's not true. I know it's not true. You...you're amazing, brilliant really. Harry and I wouldn't have made it through first-year or any of the rest without you. I'm just jealous. I'm jealous of Harry and...Merlin...I'm jealous of my own dad. I'm even jealous of the Death Eater Squib here."

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"You can't behave like that and expect people to just forgive and forget, Ron. How do you think it makes me feel when one of my best friends says those things? That prat Malfoy can call me every name under the sun and I couldn't care less. But you and Harry know me better than anyone in the world and if you think those things about me then maybe they're true." Her lower lip began to tremble.

"Oh, Mione. No." Ron jumped up from his chair, letting it topple as he rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her. Harry moved closer too.

"I was mad and hurt and I wanted to hurt you too. I'm such an idiot. It wasn't true. You're a brilliant, powerful witch and you're beautiful and wonderful and I'm an awful, awful person. It's just Harry gets you and you get Harry, and I'm all alone."

Hermione was crying now. "But you were right. This law is going to make me into a whore. What kind of woman sleeps with ten men?"

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Seeing that the boys were at a loss as to how to console the crying witch, Rodolphus interjected, "No, Miss Granger. You won't be sleeping with ten men. You'll be sleeping with ten husbands. It doesn't make you a whore; it makes you a polygamist. Considering the situation, it's the moral and decent thing to do." She looked at him through wide, wet eyes. There was little that made him less comfortable than a weeping witch.

He hoped she'd see the sense in his words. On the whole she seemed like a sensible girl.

"I never thought I'd say this, but the Death Eater's right," Weasley said, finally letting her go. Rolph felt the quick lance of blinding pain as he considered throwing the overgrown redhead out of the house. If it wasn't enough that the boy had insulted his intended, he'd also been ogling her and now he was touching her.

It didn't help that the witch was barely dressed. Certainly she was not wearing enough clothes to be in the presence of a wizard who would not be her husband. Though it did seem from his brief experience yesterday that it was acceptable for a Muggle girl to show off her skin more freely.

She seemed to be calming now and Potter wrapped his arm around her, leading her back to her seat. "I don't want you to think those things any more, Mione. It's not true."

She sniffed and nodded as she sat, then she looked to him. "I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Lestrange. I've been a little overemotional the last few days. I can't remember the last time I cried so much."

"When you saw Hogwarts' library after the battle," Weasley said, then he grunted as Potter smacked the back of his head.

The witch's face fell. "All those books. Some of them were irreplaceable. That was a crime against humanity."

"Ron, you prat, we agreed never to mention the ‘L' word. Mione, love, please don't cry again. Why don't you just hex Ron? That always makes you feel better."

With a nod and a sniff, she flicked her wand, Rodolphus wasn't certain where she'd been hiding it, and transfigured Weasley into a toad. He smiled, approving of her skills. Human transfiguration wasn't an easy feat.

Miss Granger did seem a little bit happier watching the little toad hopping about angrily.

It would be so easy to squash the boy in this form, Rodolphus thought with a wince. The pain was more intense this time, probably in proportion to the level of threat.

She warmed their breakfast with another spell and they each filled their plates and started their meals. Except for the toad. He was made to wait a few minutes before she changed him back.

Once she did, he complained, "I hate when you do that, Mione.  _Croak_. My skin always itches for days after." He scratched at his neck as he spoke.

She looked thoroughly unmoved by his whining. "Well, if you wouldn't act like a toad, it wouldn't be necessary. Next time I'll just wash your mouth out with soap."

"No, no, that's okay," he quickly backpedalled. "I belched soap bubbles for a week last time and everything tasted awful.  _Croak_. The itching isn't that bad."

"Always thinking with your stomach, Ron," Potter said, and the trio laughed.

"If you used your head more often, you wouldn't get into so much trouble," the witch added and they laughed some more.

"Do you feel the need to hex your friends often, Miss Granger?" Rodolphus asked, having enjoyed the mildly vindictive side of the witch. It was quite Slytherin really.

"Only Ron," she answered with a grin. "The rest of them realized it was stupid to upset me years ago."

"Don't be fooled, Mr. Lestrange," Potter said. "Our Hermione has quite an evil streak."

"I do not," she protested heatedly.

"Marietta Edgecomb would disagree," Potter said.

"So would Dolores Umbridge," the Weasley boy added, scratching his neck again.

"And Rita Skeeter." Potter and the other boy were laughing now.

" _Croak_. We could go on."

"Please don't," she said, laughing too, but red with embarrassment. "All I have to say is they deserved it."

"Of course they did, Mione. Keep telling yourself that."

Watching them interact, he was reminded how much younger they were than he. They were innocent in a way he'd never been as far as he could remember. It was hard to believe these three had accomplished all they were reported to have done.

The girl was quite clever and certainly powerful if she survived the  _Purgatio_. Potter's power was more subtle, as if he kept it restrained. The Weasley boy seemed to provide little more than comedic relief, though he undoubtedly had skills. It was hard to believe they were the driving force behind the Dark Lord's downfall.

But he couldn't help but be a little envious of the trio's obvious bond and the soft smile his future wife was giving Harry Potter.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purgatio = the Purge
> 
> Next chapter we'll see what our favorite Potions Master thinks of all this and then meet up with the rest of the gang...
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all of the lovely reviews and kudos. I appreciate them!


	7. Chapter 7

  
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

CHAPTER SEVEN

**_And over there's where I bled all over the carpet. Ah...good times._ **

****

The laughter and the boy's teasing had done wonders for Hermione's mood. As they finished breakfast, she realized how precious these moments were.

"Merlin, I'm going to miss this." She got up from the table to take her dish to the sink.

"Me too, Mione." Ron came up behind her, put an arm around her waist and his chin on her shoulder.

Harry came over too and hugged her from the other side.

"Everything's going to be different now," she said, clinging to her two best friends.

Harry squeezed her tighter. "Yeah. You'll have to turn Malfoy into a ferret when you're feeling down."

She laughed, but quickly sobered. "We'll always be friends, though. Right?"

"Always, Mione."

"Always."

The moment passed when Hermione realized how late it was getting. Rodolphus offered to do the dishes and it was agreed Ron would owl them later to arrange a time to meet. She rushed off to take her shower and dress in her best day robes. Arthur's owl had instructed her that she'd have to collect Professor Snape from St. Mungo's before the meeting at Malfoy Manor and to "expect resistance." She would have to meet Harry and Rodolphus there.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

St. Mungo's, like the Ministry, was virtually deserted. Eight months ago, every bed had been filled with the victims of the curse. There had been beds in the halls, in the waiting areas, in offices and the cafeteria. Now the halls were empty and entire floors were shut down. Almost all of the long-term residents had been taken by the illness. In fact Professor Snape was the only one left.

The healers said he had survived his injuries and the plague that followed by sheer stubborn will, the strength of his magic, and a few rare potions that the Potions Master had self-administered before falling into a healing coma.

But his recovery had been difficult, the healer told Hermione when she arrived to get her future husband released. The snake venom had left his body weak and slow to heal. Finally he was on the mend, but he tired easily and the healers kept him in the ward because it was likely he would overdo if he was on his own.

She was given a laundry list of instructions, half a dozen potions, and dire warnings as to the risks of letting him do too much.

After meeting with the staff, she went to his room, stomach churning with nerves. She knocked and opened the door tentatively when he called.

He was sitting in an armchair near the window, watching her enter.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I was wondering when I'd see you." Despite the injury to his neck, his voice was still low and silky smooth and it still made a strange warmth pool in her belly. He was in a black dressing robe over black pajamas, a throw lying across his legs.

"Hello, Professor." She hesitated just inside the door unused to seeing the man in anything but his formal teaching robes.

"I told Arthur I have no intention of going through with this farce of a marriage. They can put me in Azkaban."

She laughed at that. It was actually a relief that his personality was as surly as ever. But it was hard to feel intimidated by the man after she'd seen him on the verge of death. "I see we're going to skip the niceties and get straight to it."

He folded his hands over his lap. "I've no patience for ‘the niceties' as you put it."

"No, I don't suppose you do." She smiled in response to his scowl, determined not to let his attitude cow her. "Well, in that case I'll get to the point. You should know that if you don't marry me, you'll still have to get me pregnant twice. They'll just keep you here until it's done and then put you in Azkaban."

She could tell her words made an impact, but he made a show of looking around the room. "I don't mind it here so much."

"That's ridiculous." Ignoring his affronted expression, she continued, "Either way, the Ministry will force the issue and your resistance will accomplish nothing in the end. Is it me specifically you object to, or is it the situation?"

"Both," he bit out. "You were my student, you're half my age, and you've been a pain in my arse for seven years. But I will confess that I'd not willingly marry any witch."

"Why is that?" she asked, moving across the room to look out his window at traffic on the street below.

"It is personal." His clipped tone closed the subject before it even opened.

"I would argue that what we're going to do is personal too, but I doubt it would sway you. So instead I'll answer the other objections you've already given me."

She turned around, leaning against the windowsill, facing him. "I am no longer your student. You are no longer a professor as there is no longer a school. There's no impropriety. You are older than me, but I am an adult, mature for my age" - he snorted at this - "and relieved that none of my husbands have had a centennial. I will have four husbands older than you. Arthur is ten years your senior, has probably considered me something of a daughter and is still in love with Molly. If he and I can manage this, then there's no reason you and I cannot."

She cocked her head to the side and smiled before adding, "As for being a pain in your arse, I doubt that will change."

He snorted again, but this time his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. "You realize that isn't the best sales pitch."

She shrugged. "I believe in truth in advertising."

He smirked at that, but he quickly grew serious again. "You're certain there's no escaping the Ministry on this?"

She shook her head. "I read the original legislation, not just what the Prophet published. I looked for the loopholes. If there were any, I'd be long gone...no offence."

"None taken."

"Since we're stuck, there's no sense in giving up all your freedom." She walked to him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn't shrug her off.

He did look out the window for a very long time, pensive. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. "I can never love you."

That hit like a bludger to her pride. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to cry, and her reaction surprised her, but she managed to remain calm and dry eyed. "I did not ask you to."

"I think it's only fair for you to know that up front."

She swallowed thickly. "I appreciate the warning, but I don't think it will be a problem. While I will admit to an admiration of your intellect and bravery, I've not been harboring tender affections for you all these years." Unless he counted the brief crush she had on the man after he protected them from a werewolf back in third year. A fact she certainly wasn't going to mention.

He nodded, still looking into the distance. "Good."

"Well in that case, we'd best get you up and dressed or we'll miss all the fun."

He refused her assistance, asking her to leave the room while he dressed on his own, but she insisted he sit while she packed his belongings.

From his chair, he barked orders like a reigning monarch and she bustled about collecting clothes, books and other personal items.

The healers wanted him to limit his magic usage, so she shrank the bags for him when they were ready. He pocketed them and then reluctantly took a seat in the wheeled chair one of the attendants had brought. Floo travel was also disallowed, so she pushed him to the apparition point and apparated him side-along to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

It was just past eleven when they arrived, so they weren't too late, but it did mean that all of her future husbands would be waiting for her. She offered her arm to him for the long walk up the drive and was surprised when he actually accepted her help. It was an indication of just how easily his strength was taxed.

At the door they were met by a solemn house-elf dressed in a crisp, white pillowcase, and motioned toward the drawing room.

Hermione meant to move her feet in the direction of the room, but found she couldn't.

In a low, mocking voice, Severus said, "You're trembling, Miss Granger. Surely your legendary Gryffindor bravery isn't deserting you now."

She  _was_ trembling - partly in fear and partly in fury. "That bastard is hosting this meeting in his drawing room."

"Yes," he said impatiently, starting to walk, forcing her to come along.

She allowed herself to be pulled along for a few steps before she dug in her heels. "The same drawing room where Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me nearly to death a year ago."

He stopped walking and turned. She could feel him scrutinizing her, but she was too busy trying to keep her legs from collapsing to look up at him. Finally he said, "Lucius is trying to establish his dominance. He wants you upset and off-balance. Do not allow him that victory. It's crucial you don't show fear or he won't ever stop testing you."

He paused, gently grasping her chin and tilting her head back so her eyes met his.

"Do you understand me, Miss Granger?"

She understood him, but was having a hard time forming a response.

Oh no. Not now.

"Miss Granger? Hermione?"

Shortly after the final battle, she'd had her first attack after a confrontation with an arse at the Ministry. It had only happened two more times since, usually during or after moments of stress. Her breaths were coming rapidly and she couldn't even manage to nod her head. She certainly couldn't do anything when he leaned down and kissed her. It was swift and hard, but it was effective in bringing her back to the present.

She blinked as he pulled away. "I'm sorry for taking liberties, but it was that or a slap and we need to seal our betrothal-"

"With a kiss," she interrupted him, suddenly feeling much better. "Yes, I'm familiar with the ritual by now. And thank you. I was halfway to a panic attack. As if this isn't stressful enough."

"You will be fine," he said with as much certainty as if conveying a scientific truth to a class of first-years. "Lucius is playing power games because he is quite insecure. His reputation is in tatters, he barely managed to stay out of prison and his influence in the current Ministry is non-existent. Believe me when I say you have more power here than he does."

The dark eyes of the imposing Potions Master were sincere and, against all expectation, his words comforted her.

"Now normally in these situations, it is polite to greet your host first, but I think in this case, it would be best if you go to Arthur. It will help establish him as the head of the household even if we aren't in his home. And it will irritate Lucius."

She nodded, gave the dark haired wizard a shaky smile, and he switched their grip so that he was no longer leaning on her for support, but was now escorting her.

The other nine men were seated about the room when they walked in, talking in small groups, or sitting silent. All eyes turned to them when they entered.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting. St. Mungo's wasn't keen to let me go." Severus said, with a quirk of his lips and a talent for fabrication that he'd honed during almost two decades of spying.

Arthur and Malfoy both stood as did Harry and a few others, but when she took a step toward Arthur, he walked forward to greet them. He shook Severus' hand and Severus passed her over.

Arthur kissed the back of her hand and then her cheek. "Hello, Hermione. I trust all is well since I saw you last."

"Yes, Arthur. Thank you for arranging everything."

"My pleasure. I suppose you should greet the others.

She grasped his arm like she'd been clinging to Severus. "You won't leave me?" she asked in a low voice.

He bent down to murmur in her ear. "Don't worry, dear. I'll let no harm come to you."

Smiling up at him, she let him lead her around the room, starting with the Malfoys who were closest.

"Miss Granger, such a pleasure to see you again," Lucius said. His long blond hair was caught neatly at the back of his neck. His robes were the finest emerald green silk.

She smiled coldly and offered her hand. As he pressed a kiss to the back of it, she said, "Mr. Malfoy. It is kind of you to host this gathering in your home. I'm pleased to see you were able to salvage the chandelier. It's such a lovely old piece. It would have been a shame if it had been destroyed."

Lucius cleared his throat, looking toward the light fixture which had caused the diversion that allowed her and her friends to escape last year. "Ah, yes, the elves were able to restore most of it. Unfortunately some of the crystals are no longer original."

She followed his gaze to the extravagant light fixture. "That is a shame, but it doesn't detract from its beauty, if it's any consolation."

His gaze switched to her, eyes narrowing as he examined her. After a moment, he tilted his head ever so slightly toward her and said, "That is a consolation indeed. I'm glad to welcome you in my home under more pleasant circumstances."

"Thank you." Hermione felt like she'd managed to score a point and come out ahead in this skirmish. But she didn't kid herself that she'd won the war.

"I believe you know my son, Draco."

"Of course." She offered her hand to the tall blond and he bent over it though he didn't kiss it as her father had. "I hope you've been well, Draco." She had always called him by his surname in school, but she deliberately used his first name now. If he noticed, he didn't make a point of it.

"I've been as well as can be expected under the circumstances." An ambiguous answer and possibly a veiled insult.

"I know what you mean," she responded with a small smile, though she wasn't entirely sure she did. She then pulled her hand back and moved on.

Kingsley was next and he took her hand flipping it over to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Minister," she said, wondering if he could feel the way his lips made her pulse race.

"Little one," he murmured against her skin.

"I'm mad at you, Kings." She snatched her hand back.

"What did I do now, witch?" he asked with a wide smile.

"It has something to do with personal freedom and binding magic. I've decided not to loan you that book. You'll probably use it for ideas." She noticed Lucius watching her interaction with the Minister with interest and she decided to drop it. "I'll berate you later, in private."

"See, you're already getting the hang of being a politician's wife."

She just smiled and shook her head.

Goyle was next, sitting off by himself. It had been almost two years since she'd seen him for more than a moment in the heat of battle. The boy who had at one time been thick and thuggish had shot up in height. He was still big and muscular. His face had become leaner, showing a strong jaw. In all honesty, he was hot, in a broody kind of way.

She offered her hand with a soft, "Hello."

He didn't quite look at her and he didn't speak, but his slightly moist hand briefly squeezed hers before he released it.

The entire time, Arthur stayed with her, his hand resting on the small of her back in an almost proprietary gesture.

Rodolphus was next and he took her hand and kissed the back gallantly.

"I hope you and Harry had no difficulty getting here, Mr. Lestrange."

"No. Thank you, Miss Granger. I am not fond of side-along apparition, but I suppose I'll have to adapt."

"Perhaps I can introduce you to other forms of Muggle transportation. You seemed to take to the Tube easily enough."

"I look forward to it." He winked at her before Arthur led her away.

"That was unexpected," the redhead commented under his breath.

"We're going to try being nice to each other. So far it's been rather easy."

Arthur nodded, but was pensive.

He led her across the room to Cormac. Ugh.

It wasn't that Cormac was unattractive. Quite the opposite, he was rather handsome with wavy blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. The problem was he knew he was attractive and that was so very unattractive.

"Hermione," he said, bending down to kiss her. She turned her head to the side so that he ended up kissing her cheek.

"Hello, Cormac. Have you been well?"

"Yes, quite. I've been promoted at the Ministry." He reminded her strongly of Percy, but with a more predatory quality. His eyes were focused on her neckline as he spoke. "It seemed like fate when we were matched."

Yes. A fate worse than death.

Okay, maybe that was overstating things a bit.

She gave him a weak smile and moved on to Neville.

Neville, she hugged. "How are you holding up?" she murmured in his ear.

He shrugged. "How about you?" he asked as she pulled away.

"About the same."

She turned to Harry and was again swallowed in a hug.

"I could kill Lucius Malfoy," he said and she knew he was referring to the use of this room and its reminders of the past.

"I know. But it's okay. He can't hurt me, remember?"

"That's right, love." He set her back on her feet.

"Give me strength?"

"All I have is yours."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Awkward conversations, decisions by committee and Hermione spends a little time with Draco.
> 
> Thanks for the continued support of this story! I treasure all of your comments and kudos!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've neglected this site for so long. I'll be getting the chapters that have been previously posted elsewhere up-to-date here before posting a brand new chapter. Thanks for reading!

_All in favor of the missionary position say, "Aye."_

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Once all of her husbands were properly greeted, Arthur guided her to a seat between him and Severus on a lavish sofa.

As soon as they’d settled, Arthur turned to Severus. “I assume you know everyone.”

The Potions Master smirked. “Yes, I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Terrific. Then we can get right down to it,” Arthur replied, his cheerful tone at complete odds with the darker wizard’s sarcasm. “So as you all know, this law appoints the eldest spouse as the head of house. From what I understand, that means the final decisions with regard to the Granger family, as we’ll be designated by the Ministry, will rest with me. Luckily, I have some experience with managing a large family, and I know that acting as a dictator is not the way to peace and harmony. So unless the situation calls for an immediate decision or if we cannot come to a consensus, I intend to follow the will of the majority. That said, Hermione’s opinion may carry more weight than anyone else at times, and in those cases, I will defer to her. Does anyone have any issues with that?”

This was greeted with silence, so he went on. “Good. So the first order of business is that we are required by the law to set up one household and each member of the household is required to spend an average of six nights per week in the house. I believe the intent, and correct me if I’m wrong Kingsley, is for the family to bond as our children will all be growing up as siblings. We need to decide where we would like to make our home. Does anyone have a suggestion?”

The elder Malfoy spoke up first, “Malfoy Manor can easily accommodate all of us and any offspring. Although I have had quite enough of being dictated to while I’m in my own home.”

Arthur nodded tightly, the hand which rested beside hers on the sofa clenched into a fist, but his voice was even when he responded, “I do not care about the daily running of your house, Malfoy. I would restrict my interference to matters affecting the family. But perhaps there is another suggestion. The Burrow does not have sufficient rooms unless we renovate.”

Harry spoke up. “Grimmauld Place is large enough for now, but it won’t work very well once there are children. There’s not enough land, and the neighborhood isn’t great. I’ve property in Godric’s Hollow, but I would need to rebuild before it would be acceptable.”

“The Minister’s home is large enough,” Kingsley said, “but it is Unplottable and Secret Kept for good reason, as is Grimmauld Place. I don’t think it would be wise to open either of them for the family.”

“My Gran still owns Longbottom Hall. There would be plenty of room, but she won’t let us use it for obvious reasons.” Neville’s eyes flicked for the briefest of moments to the corner where Rodolphus sat.

Cormac’s home wasn’t large enough, Goyle’s family’s assets had been seized because of his father’s participation in the war, and the Lestrange properties had all been seized after the first war. Hermione already sold her parent’s modest four-bedroom home to fund their relocation, and Severus’ house was too small for one, according to him.

“It seems as though Malfoy Manor will be ideal,” Arthur finally conceded to a seemingly smug Lucius Malfoy. “We have until the binding to move in.”

They each agreed to contribute a small monthly rent to the Malfoys to account for the expenses of food and such. Rodolphus’ would come from the stipend provided by the Ministry to the prisoner’s guardian. Hermione would be exempt. When she offered, Lucius refused saying he would not charge his wife rent and that was the end of it.

That started a discussion about providing Hermione with spending money for clothes and such. It was proposed that they set up an account and all contribute an amount each month, but that’s where Hermione put her foot down.

“I’ll not have you paying me like some sort of…of prostitute. My needs are not extravagant. I have my own money, even if I’m not able to work.”

“Little one, you may need to outfit yourself in ways you wouldn’t normally, and as your husbands, it’s our responsibility to provide for you,” Kingsley said in his most diplomatic tone.

“Fine. If you wish to put something into an account for me from time to time, I won’t object, but it should be up to each of you how much and how often. Not everyone has the Minister’s salary or twenty generations of family money to live from. And not everyone is going to need me to appear at a function in the latest fashion. I’d prefer you all put your extra into trusts for our children.”

They all agreed, some with more reluctance than others.

“So that brings us to the binding ceremony,” Arthur continued. “When and where.”

Kingsley spoke up then, “I will need to invite the press to this event, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have the public there as well.”

“So we’ll need a venue large enough to accommodate a crowd.”

It was finally decided that Hogwarts’ grounds would be the venue. The ceremony would take place the next day at noon, which served two purposes. First, it was the spring equinox, and as such it would be an ideal day to hold a binding, especially one such as this. The second was that the Ministry would not begin holding services until the following day, so it was likely to be the first, as was fitting for the Minister’s binding.

It gave them less than 24 hours to arrange everything. Kingsley would be responsible for notifying the paper, issuing invitations and arranging security for the service. Arthur would go to the Binding Department at the Ministry and ensure that all the paperwork was in order. He’d also find a wizard to perform the ceremony. Neville, Goyle, Cormac and Harry would all go to Hogwarts this afternoon to find an appropriate spot and to prepare it for the binding. Lucius agreed to acquire appropriate dress robes for those who didn’t have them already. Draco, Severus and Rodolphus would work with the Malfoy elves to arrange a reception and ball for the VIP guests, which would include immediate family, close friends, important political figures, and a few members of the press.

Hermione’s task was simple. She had to find a dress.

The only difficulty came about when Hermione was asked about her parents. It was traditional in the binding ceremony for the parents of the bride to give their blessing. Arthur approached the subject delicately, thinking perhaps her parents might not approve of the situation. Only Ron and Harry knew the truth of the matter.

Hermione simply answered, “My parents won’t be available for the service. We’ll simply have to skip that part.” Her voice was thick and she had her hands clasped tightly to keep from losing control of her emotions. She glanced at Harry who gave her a sympathetic look.

“Perhaps there is someone else in the wizarding world who could take that role.”

“Well if the situation were different, I’d ask you to do it Arthur, but I doubt that’s appropriate under the circumstances.”

“What about Ron,” Harry suggested gently. “He is the one giving you up.”

She heard a snort from the Malfoy corner of the room, but everyone ignored it.

“Do you think he would do it?” Arthur asked with skepticism. He’d witnessed the argument yesterday.

“If Mione asks him to he will. They made up this morning.”

“Well, if he won’t, I’m certain Bill will stand in.”

“Thanks, Arthur. I’ll owl Ron when we’re finished.”

With the ceremony details arranged, they moved onto the topic that Hermione had been dreading. The consummation.

“The binding ceremony is not legal until the relationships are consummated,” Arthur said, reading from the Ministry paperwork, red tingeing the very tips of his ears, reminding her of Ron. “Additionally, the law requires daily relations with at least one spouse until conception and states that those relations must include all of the husbands on a rotating basis until such time that the spouse has been provided two children. After the initial consummation and conception, relations are not required by law during the pregnancy or for two weeks following the pregnancy, during any periods of genuine illness as confirmed by a mediwitch, or during the witch’s monthly courses.” Hermione could feel her face growing redder by the second. She couldn’t bear to look anywhere but at her white knuckles. “But as there is a fidelity clause in the binding, there is an expectation that relations would continue voluntarily during pregnancy so long as it isn’t a danger to mother or child.”

There he paused, and from the oppressive silence, she knew everyone was waiting for her to respond. Words failed her.

Arthur prodded, “Do you have any thoughts on this, Hermione?”

Oh dear Merlin.

She opened her mouth and forced her tongue and lips to form words. “Ah…I will n-not—”

“Speak up, girl,” Severus interrupted in his most dismissive tone. “I’m sitting right next to you, and I can’t understand you. Stop stammering and blushing like a bloody virgin and say it already.”

That got her fired up. “Well I am a bloody virgin, you arse, so I don’t know how else to act.” There was no issue with her volume now, and she even managed to say the v-word without hesitating. “As I was saying,” glaring at Severus who was staring at her slightly agape, “I will not deny my husbands’ needs during pregnancy, though I reserve the right to change my mind if my husbands are going to act like insensitive prats.”

As she spoke Severus continued to stare and finally she said, “What the hell are you gaping at?”

Arthur’s hand was on her low back. “I believe Severus is surprised that you’ve never been with a man.”

“Oh.” Some of her anger evaporated at that.

“Yes, I was given to understand you’d been involved with Potter and Weasley in school,” Lucius said, looking toward his son.

Draco shrugged. “That was the rumor.”

Hermione sent her glare in that direction. “Yes, well rumors can’t be trusted.”

“But didn’t you and the boys hide out together for months last year?” Kingsley asked, genuinely surprised.

“It was so romantic,” she said, jumping to her feet. “Running for our lives, trying to decipher Dumbledore’s vague hints so we could find a way to destroy a megalomaniac, sleeping in shifts so there was always a lookout. Forgive me if that just doesn’t spell seduction in my book. We were saving the world! Why’s this so bloody hard to understand?”

This was met by silence and a snort from Harry, who was the next recipient of her glare. He immediately shut up.

“I didn’t sign on for deflowering virgins,” Severus said, getting to his unsteady feet.

“Sit down, Severus Snape,” she said, the air practically crackling around her. “We’ve been through this already, you and I, and I won’t do it again. There’s no point to it. Nothing has changed, and you won’t be responsible for any deflowering. Only one of you will be sleeping with a virgin in any case, and that will be Harry, unless he objects.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “You’ll get no objections from me, love. I know better than to argue with you when you’ve made up your mind.”

“Why Potter?” Cormac asked.

“Because I trust Harry Potter more than anyone else in this world. After that, I do not care how you determine the order,” she said, directing the latter part of her comment to Arthur. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I need some air.”

She turned and left the room.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Chatter erupted amongst the men after Hermione left. Father and Shacklebolt were discussing the ancient blessings that could be invoked when the bride was a virgin, which was a fairly rare occurrence nowadays. Weasley was calming Snape, who still looked ready to bolt. McLaggen was looking around the room as if appraising the value of the artwork and Longbottom was asking Potter if they should go after her. Lestrange was looking after the girl as if he might follow her, too, and Goyle was staring at the floor in silence – he hadn’t spoken more than two words the entire time.

Before Lestrange or one of the Gryffindors could decide to go wandering through the Manor unsupervised, Draco got up and excused himself.

He wasn’t certain what compelled him to go after the girl. Perhaps he was worried the curious witch would stumble across objects that could be harmful if touched, or that she’d get lost in the multitude of passageways so similar in layout and décor as to be identical, or that she’d find the Hall of Portraits and would have a hundred Malfoy ancestors berating her blood status. But it was mostly because he didn’t want her to run across his mum. Neither was in the best state of mind for a confrontation.

Only two steps from the drawing room, he saw that the front door was cracked open. Well at least she wasn’t nosing around where she shouldn’t be.

Draco opened the door and found the girl who would become his unwanted bride sitting on the steps, an elbow propped on one knee, her hand cupping her chin in an inelegant pose that would’ve horrified his childhood deportment tutor, Mr. Higgens.

“Are they deciding which sexual position would be best for my deflowering now?” she asked, not bothering to look up.

He bit back a laugh. “I’m partial to the reverse-cowgirl myself.”

She gasped and twisted around, surprised it was him. “I thought you were Harry.” She sniffed. “You wear the same cologne.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Clive Christian 1872. I bought him a bottle for Christmas.”

“It’s an expensive cologne.”

She laughed. “Yes. But it was the one I liked best, and I thought it suited him. It suits you too.” She looked back at the door behind him. “Do they need me back already?”

“No. I came to make certain you didn’t get lost.”

“Worried I was going to go through your things? Steal the silver? Graffiti the hallways?” Her tone was light and teasing, but there was an underlying wariness, as if she was waiting for an attack, verbal or otherwise.

He just shook his head with a smile. She was kind of amusing and pretty, with sunshine glinting from the golden highlights in her brown hair. Father had been adamant that he set aside his past grievances with the girl and embrace this marriage, though it seemed it would be difficult for the older Malfoy to follow his own advice. Draco had to admit she was well-connected in the new political regime. Hell, she’d be married to the Minister. A favorable alliance with her could go a long way to restoring the Malfoy name.

Besides, Draco was tired of fighting.

“Come on, I’ll show you the gardens. There are much nicer spots if you want to brood.” Draco walked down the front steps, not waiting to see if she would follow. If she wasn’t going to, she’d be arguing with him by now. He took the path around the side of the house into the rose gardens.

The gardens were charmed to bloom all year, protected from drastic changes in temperature. It was one of his mum’s favorite spots and he only hoped they wouldn’t cross paths. Behind him he heard her rapid footfalls as she tried to catch up with his longer strides. After a few twists and turns, the path led to a bower of roses that hid a fountain with a maiden carrying a spilling vase. It was one of his favorite places to hide. He took a seat on the little bench and waited as she perched next to him.

“This is lovely. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen roses this color.” She fingered the petal of a bloom that was a delicate blue-silver.

“That’s because it’s a Malfoy exclusive. My mother created it.”

“It’s gorgeous. She must have excelled in Herbology.”

“Yes, it was her favorite subject.”

“Will she be taking clippings with her?”

“No. She won’t be leaving the Manor.”

“Oh?” Her brow puckered as she tried to figure that out.

“My mother is not able to have any more children. She won’t be remarrying.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “And yet they’ve dissolved her marriage to your father? How horrible.”

“We weren’t exactly in a position to complain.”

She gave him a rueful smile. “I was in a position to complain and you see where that got me.”

“Not anxious to marry me?”

“I believe my exact words were, ‘The gods are punishing me.’” She laughed, a sound that he found himself enjoying. “I’m certain you were just as thrilled with the idea of marrying me.”

“I did think something along the lines of, ‘Kill me now,’ but I suppose it could be worse.”

“Sure. I could be Dolores Umbridge.”

“That’s not even funny. Blaise Zabini got matched to the old toad. He’ll need buckets of lust potion. And an _Obliviate_ after.”

“Tell him to come see me. I’m quite good at memory charms.” She smiled, but then sighed. “I’m really sorry about your mother. Will she be okay with all of us staying here?”

He shrugged and pulled a petal from one of the Malfoy roses. “At least she won’t be all alone. She was talking about opening the dower house and I think that might be for the best. That way she’ll have her own space and won’t have to see someone taking her place. Her only worry is that the Ministry might force her to leave the Manor altogether.”

“That won’t happen. They can’t make her leave. Not if I issue the invitation to stay myself. And if they do, Kingsley will fix it, or he will be very sorry.”

Her brown eyes blazed and he couldn’t help but pity the Minister if she didn’t get her way. “You’re a little scary, you know.”

She laughed at that. “Ron always says that.”

He withheld a grimace at being compared to the Weasel. “So I thought you and Weasley were an item.”

“We were for a while, but it never really went anywhere. It just wasn’t the right time, and to be honest, I think it’s better that way. At least now there’s a chance we can stay friends.”

Draco nodded, wishing he’d thought to avoid a sexual entanglement with Pansy. It had almost ruined their friendship, and even now things were strained. It was just one more thing he’d have done differently if he’d known. Of course he could never have predicted he would end up here, having this conversation with this witch.

Life was weird.

He looked at the girl who would soon be his wife. “You realize this is the first time we’ve ever had a conversation that didn’t end in hexes or insults or punches in the face.”

She smirked up at him in a way that would have infuriated him in school, but now he found sort of endearing. “I could hex you now if it would make you more comfortable.”

He laughed at that, as she’d intended, the noise startling a flock of birds from the nearby trees. The sound surprised him too. It had been ages – before he’d taken the Dark Mark maybe – since he’d felt like laughing, since he’d felt this light. And as the witch beamed up at him, her eyes crinkling in mirth, he decided this marriage might not be so bad.

The silence that followed his laughter was oddly charged as they stared at each other, still smiling, sitting so close that he could feel the heat of her body. Finally he said, “No hexes necessary, Hermione, but you may want to hit me after I do this.” He leaned in and kissed her, moving fast enough that he couldn’t second guess himself and so she couldn’t move away. The kiss was little more than a peck, but it accomplished what it needed to. Their betrothal was sealed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The witch formerly known as Mrs. Malfoy, and Hermione spends some time with those who've been neglected...


End file.
